"the art of growing up"

fall down the steps and you won't be caught:
there's no one there,
and those who once were, now are gone,
and you're left all alone.

taken back to times long gone,
we're falling faster than we thought,
and penalties for giving in are getting old—
we're growing up.

and growing up can mean so much,
and opens doors,
and possible things, impossible before,
are taking hold and oh-so good.

and goodness never went so far,
till growing up encompassed acts,
these things never considered before,
tried once to please and twice to tax
my heart and change my thoughts in ways
i never thought they could be changed,
but changing is for better
'cause how could it be for worse?

but who's to say what's worse or not?
anything's good if you don't get caught.
just the faster that you tend to go,
the slower it is to stop.

but who would want to stop at all,
these feelings oh-so physical,
their safety firmly reassured
until you start to fall?

but falling down, it ain't that bad,
as long as there's something to catch your land—
unless that thing's hard as rock,
and then it might get sad.

and sadness, too, can go so far,
and you won't wanna be grown up no more.
and there'll be no one there to catch that fall.
you'll just be all alone.

december, 2003.