When you no longer have an original thought in your body
And you stop having your little lovely tea parties
With Biscuit the stuffed dog and Bearie the stuffed bear
Who sit ever so quietly in their chairs.

When a stick is still just a stick
And you realize there’s no magic in magic tricks
The army men you play with are just pieces of plastic
And the rubber band you tied them up with is simply elastic

The playground is no longer a castle, and you no longer the king
The birds in the trees chirp but don’t ever sing
The shed behind your house is no longer a fortress
And you slowly realize it housed no evil forces

You understand your shootouts never killed anyone
And its impossible to ever ride off into a setting sun
When a heart stops being a symbol for love
And freedom is no longer symbolized by a dove

When the crawlspace under your stairs stops being a cave
Then some hole in the ground will start to look like a grave.