Backyard

Grandpa said, "Son, real men don't hold guns They're humble with grace And they shield their loved ones" "Hold your own," he said "And bow to no one's head Help when you have impulse And address the things that you dread Don't you feel embarrassed And never feel ashamed For sticking up for others who can't defend their names" But I am nothing without the wind behind my back But it's the wind that blows That keeps me on my track But where this wind comes from Is not like a sea breeze It flows constantly From those close to me I walk through an old yard My friends in different rooms A demon in their hands They've taught me much under the great full moon A complex series of unforeseen events Divert my feet with every accident It's humbling to know our control only goes so far I am nothing without the wind behind my back But it's the wind that blows That keeps me on my track But where this wind comes from Is not like a sea breeze It flows constantly From those close to me It flows constantly From those close to me