Only seventeen years old, "a whole life ahead of me"
Stress surrounds me like a cage, won't let me free
Not how it's supposed to be
Childhood's almost over; left with only a few decent memories
Used to knock on my neighbor's door to see if Michael could come out to play
Now I get responses like "Too busy right now; maybe I'll have time another day"
Used to ride bikes around the cul-de-sac, the sun shining on our necks as we changed gears
I glance out the window from time to time but the cul-de-sac hasn't seen a single bike in years
Used to play soccer in the backyard, tearing up the grass, wouldn't let it grow
Backyard's been abandoned now, grass is fully grown; it's only use is giving us the chore to mow
Used to play pickup basketball in the driveway, shooting hoops, calling fouls
I walk past now and the net's falling off, hanging like a noose in the gallows
I haven't outgrown these things; not too old to shoot a hoop or take a ride
I just seem to be too busy, never really have the time
The good years are gone, worry always finds me
That's when I question, "Is my whole life behind me?"