In the Years of Conformity

I dreamed with pencils as music filled my head.

In the Years of Conformity 

I lived on  a block where the houses were the same.
and all the children joined the baseball game.
I walked through the woods to try to escape.
My mother would yell when I came back late,
in the years of conformity. 

The shopping stores were ducks in a row.
The parents kept books to pay what they owe.
There was always some need to go, some place to be.
It seemed like there was never any place for me.
in the years of conformity.

It was night on the couch after the early news.
It was living room smoke and take off your shoes.
It was put out the trash and turn off the light.
It was the day after day and night after night.
in the years of conformity.

It was twelve years of  long days in school.
It was bus stop fights for the kids not cool.
It was Sunday church and I didn’t want to go.
It was one day off, if there was a heavy snow,
in the years of conformity 

I had a cheep record player at the foot of my bed.
I  dreamed with  pencils as music filled my head.
I remember someone’s father hanging from a tree.
I know how he felt and that he could have been me,
in the years of conformity.