Lost Boys

Say nothing of faith or fear
Oh bold, blessed boy
King's ransom in problems unsolved
For trinkets and toys

Old dusty set packed up and saved
A tender-eyed smile
There's a light that's been counted away
In minutes and miles

Round and round
Supper can wait
Worn down
Still chasing that train

So gather the fragments of yore
Turn eights into threes
There's a voice that's been calling your name
Past the cellophane sea

Days measured in cigarette burns
And coffee stained lines
Rough palms touch face pressed to glass
Still sprawled on the pine

Round and round
Supper can wait
Worn down
Still chasing that train