I was born fifty years too late. The truth is good men die everyday. My life is results of grace and all the choices I have made. "Hard times" is a taste I have never been fed. I walk along the angels and the dead. I have met the face of reality, but I ain't never had to shake of her hands. The future is a ghost in the rain and death came as fast as we came. I am the spoiled son. I was born as the second one. Sometimes I'm the prodigal son and sometimes I'm the other one. If I am "the veteran", then I guess that makes you "the war." In this "Harvard" town, we get no rewards. My voice is not steady, my voice is not clean. But I don't care of any of these things. The future is lost in the rain.