Don’t stop swinging,

Mum will say it’s time to go,

So hold on tight and shut your eyes,

Or else she might say no.

Your heart begins to flutter,

As the saddest part of the day,

Is when she calls from the bench,

‘Only five minutes left of play.’

Now you sit on that swing,

Your hair flowing behind,

You’re all alone, just you and your head,

And there’s no one there to call time.

So you sit on that swing for hours on end,

Thinking it will make you feel free,

But really all it does is remind you,

You’re on your own and that’s the way it’ll always be.