This Century Is Ours

you've got a hit-bottom way of seeing the world,

tripping in new ways that don't hark back to yore,

and I'm ghosting through hallways of the greats

where songs once filtered through like smoke.

say, have you got a light to lead the way—

like you're a shepherd tending to a lost flock—

and your muse is like a rainy day night

when lightning strikes twice, thrice, a quatrain.

but when we take to that stage, our glory,

we're a force greater than any storm to be seen—

and someday we're going to be legends

when we can believe the world is ours.

maybe in a hundred years you'll see—

when they uncover our greatest hits

in some backwater yard that's craving

to be filled with the soul of song once more.