Threshold

Away now the games must go
Pack up your toys
You won't need them now
That table is no
Longer a spaceship
That chair is no
Longer a castle
It is furniture
Something functional

Something for you
To kick against

Away now those dreams must go
Spend that penny for your thoughts
The ruts beckon now
You must start running
To keep still
You must start swimming
Just to breathe
You must wear a suit
Down to the bone

Something suitable
For you to hide in

Away now the toys must go
That gun will now be for real
Get off that swing
Its time to tread the mill now
Get off the fence
You must stand
Upon clay feet
There is no apron now
No mother

Nothing for you
To go running to.