we're getting older, but we're, still, young.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older,
Then we wouldn’t have to wait so long.

what exactly waiting for in this world we are living in.
the beach boys seem to have the answer to such a perennial qustion.
the army boys, or rather men, too have the answer.
we are waiting for POP, ORD, ROD.

we all start of as kids,
kids who dream of becoming a teacher, a doctor, a fireman, a policeman.
dreams that had no need for evaluation of it's possibility, feasibility.
dreams that seemed so real, we donned the uniform if our parents could afford them.
we dreamed, we still do, but not as much.

we dream.
but we do not, dare, to believe.
that it will actually happen,
that The Dream will be realised.

our dreams,
crushed by reality.
reality that tells us that we do not qualify, that we are not good enough.
the truth that The Dream, isin't going to be able to help us lead a comfortable life.
it isin't going to get you a nice pay check,
it isin't going to living the life you want to live, living the dream.

days when we were young, these dreams they seemed real.
we had the tools, the uniform, the support.
the support from your parents, your siblings or even your doll by being your customer, your patient, the runaway robber.
it was good to have such aspirations we were told.
work hard and it will come true.

if we were to mention The Dream to one that cares about our future this day,
we might meet with a sweet talker who would tell you to work harder and it will be realised.
a friend who tells you the truth, just as a family member would.
such specious dreams, it'll be fatuous of us to pursue them.

dreams, stifled by practicality, but not dead.

one day, we will be the beach boys, it WILL be nice.