Old boy's dream

It's an old boy's dream, freed from the seams
harking back to days of joyful play
on the floor the stories unfolded
wheels and future could-be's revolved

It's an old boy's dream, a sporting machine
quite some rust, quite some tear and wear
flaking dust, been on the roads god knows where
but now it resides in my own juvenile eyes

Boys will be boys, my mother did sight
My father just told me to do what I'd like
and now my sister declares me a branded fool
for this piece of misery, it's just a tool

But it's an old boy's dream, my own sporting machine ...