saturday night and nothing to do

A short story of ghosts from the past.

Saturday night and nothing to do;
took a walk past my old school;
nothing’s changed but nothing’s the same;
kids still playing the same old games.

What has become of the people I knew;
are their dreams still on fire?
Right the wrongs that we all saw;
what has become of us all?

Stopped by the church where I used to hide;
twenty years now since I’ve been inside;
minister said that I’d turn out bad;
he’s long since gone; can’t say I’m sad.

What has become of the people I knew;
are their dreams still on fire?
Right the wrongs that we all saw;
what has become of us all?

Long years passing, too fast to see for you and me.

Walked back to my father’s place;
no-one there now, not a trace
of the family and friends who gathered there;
only me to stop and stare.

What has become of the people I knew;
are their dreams still on fire?
Right the wrongs that we all saw;
what has become of us all?

(©2003 Stewart Bowman)