Dreams Of Paper And Clay Poem by Oliver Clarke

I was once a young boy
I had few close friends,
I never knew the fashion,
I never knew the trend,
I was always swinging,
From that same old tree,
The one that always stuck,
With me in my dreams.

I was once a young boy,
Life all seemed so simple,
I was having fun even,
When the sun don’t shine,
Funny thing is that,
I would believe you, if you said,
Everything is fine.

But you didn’t,
And I don’t blame you,
It’s not your fault,
I couldn’t save you,
From the truth,
The unspoken voice,
In the streets,
In the noise.

Dreams made of, paper and clay,
Everyone is told what to say,
Tell me you’ll fight until the end of day,
Maybe the world’s masks will finally go away.

Dreams made of paper and clay,
Everyone is told what to say,
Will u help me take these masks?
Burn them and walk away,
With your hands,
Held up high,
I will never touch the sky,
But now I see, I can see, do you see?
These paper dreams were meant for me.

If this life suddenly changes,
Once you’ve made your bed,
Would you simply stick to it?
And turn your heavy head,
Or would you try and make a change,
For good and for bad,
If either way you just do something,
I’m sure you will be glad.

Dreams made of paper and clay,
Can I tell you what to say?
Take a good look into life’s mirror,
And tell me then, can you turn away.

Dreams made of paper and clay.