Mom tells me what are you going to do with your life?
I say, shit, I don't even know if tomorrow I'll be alive.
In my early twenties with unrealistic goals,
ears tune for an answer that fits the norm.
One way or another we will all be grown,
get a job and start a family on our own.
Hell no. Too many traumas and wasted holidays.
History should not repeat itself in different ways.
Move out of the house, always an option.
Teenage me would have vouched for some action.
Now here is what I want: get right on my own
and not forget where I am from.
Make stories, generate an income,
become better than Abraham Lincoln.
One of these days, maybe one day.
After all, we have to leave the nest someday.
