It can't be done.
You can't act in films.
You're from Missouri, where dreams grow to die, like weeds under the sun.
They shout so loud, it bounces off the stars, meaning I can't even sleep to dream at night.
They are the constant convulted clamour of the everyone trying to keep me from flight.
They say the more air I tread, the more the globe demands I collapse unto it, under its might,
Serving my days as a more compitent component that has no chance of failing: fertilizer.
Because they say reality falls behind as my dreams soar higher.
But I need this. I can't exist kicking around the small town proverbial dust,
I can't waste the world's water until I c-c-croak from suburb-ial rust.
As such an individual, if I can see the dimmest spotlight above, I give a herculean arial thrust,
Up! Up! Up!
I grab the fleeting edge of any and all stages,
Because the fear of being stage-less spreads from my brain to my bones like an internal contagion,
So I breathe life into every 15 minutes I attain on stage,
Synthesizing characters as unforgettable as an addiction to cocaine.
My future rules my thoughts like a totalitarian Charlemagne,
Uniting my ambition, focus, and drive in the divided state called my brain.
But I have a long way to go, and this is where I stumble.
My brain and heart ache as my soul's tummy grumbles,
I know in college lies the way to go find and refine a treasure trove of knowledge,
But to get there I need to travel many seas aboard the saving "Ships of Scholars".
"I sure do love my mom and dad" I say,
But their best wishes can't support me until I graduate.
And they sure can't support me until I catch my break.
So to make my parents proud, escape my small town: I have to pave my own way.
So be it brick by brick, I'm always building my yellow brick road,
With blood, sweat, and tears I mortar each load,
Until one day I can exclaim, "I'm not even close to Kansas anymore!"