Old Stories

I love reading those stories From a time we were young and free When everything was permitted And we were allowed to dream Dream big, dream high Dream of everything that could be Hoping the future to shape Not thinking about the what ifs Those stories bring me back Precious memories of gold I'd read them and empty my lungs Laughing at how silly it was Silly, folly, stupid, mad To think we could somehow change This crazy world of broken parts That fights any attempt to mend All that is wrong and bent But we still wanted to try And try we did Whether we succeeded or failed The only thing we have left Is to look back and smile For our stories we got to write