I once knew this guy,
the world dared him alone
‘cause he was so right about what was wrong.
Things would change,
because to him they were new.
Each day was a gift, his life a thank you note.
And then he learned to wait,
to forgive and forget
as his far out plans moved in closer to home.
The more he changed,
the more things stayed the same.
The world, it mostly got in his way.
Now he’s listening
to an old song about hope and change,
waiting for the elevator to reach his floor.
Hasn’t heard it forever,
a synth sounds like a voice,
cool saxophones instead of crude guitars.
He sees himself
reflected back in the door,
looking at who he used to be.
Before living was earned,
before work was a job,
before he was told what he couldn’t do.
And then he starts singing,
words remembered from the past.
His voice rising as he finds them.
“Let’s come together,
and make things better,” he sings,
“Take to the streets, and make them our own.”
Speak truth to power, never give up the fight!”
Then there’s this beep,
because he’s reached his floor
the doors open, his image disappears.
And he’s just this old guy
who got dared like everyone else
to get to his job on time.
But he’s smiling
because now he knows,
that song was always with him,
and he can still sing.