When you ask a child "what do you want to be"

Their answer naivee lays on the heart and warms you,

The smile on your face starts to curve even higher and you think

how sweet.

But when you ask me now "what do you want to be"

I'd say happy,

Because the reality of it is that my wallet is thin and my dreams are fat,

With an unemployed mother you realize what figures in a bank account represent,

And what the real dream becomes,

No child thinks of an expense,

Well I guess that means I am no child,

So when did my dreams support the weight of reality,

My dreams are still standing holding up the troubles

And telling me to make them stronger,

I will,

See no check determines where I go,

My career exciting, rewarding,

And my life successful,

The checks matter no more because I own them and not the other way around,

The curve of a smile,

Now on my face tilts higher and I remember,

My dreams are reality.