Soapbox Blasphemies

Get off your high horse your speeches aint nothing but fancy words and confusing metaphors. You preachin about nothing and have not a thing to believe in. I hear you talkin but a signal ain’t comin in. Your words are nothing but soapbox blasphemies, just a blast from the past for me. When the kids laughed and my parents said no, all my heart was screaming was go, go, go! Now I’m seeing places you wouldn’t believe while you’re stuck at home wondering why you didn’t dream like me. You’ve got picket fences but I’m living the dream. Your life is Cherry pie while mine is Boston Cream.