Son, listen to the fine words I speak to you:

As you grow toward becoming a man

Never you fail to stop dreaming,

But know one thing: Big dreams cost money;

Women are bound to break your heart,

Friends will come and go like seasons do,

You will spend more time hating the world than loving it;

Plenty of feet are going to tramell over your grave

No one will listen to your problems,

If they do, they’ll be glad you have them

You will get stronger, if not biter and wiser

But in the end, then you’ll find Manhattan

Waiting for you.


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