Ode to the Juvies, 
Who play on the swings, 
Who run on the grass and pretend to be kings. 

What a wonder to wonder the trivial things: 

The purpose of flowers, 
The job of the bees, 
The thoughts of the birds with the breeze in their wings. 

And how can they sing? 
When the world keeps on spinning, 
Not sparing a moment to clear up some things. 

Make haste, Juveniles, 
For soon it's too late 
And you flirt with new concepts of affection and hate 
And accept adolescence, who comes on too strong, 

Juveniles, hear me for my song! 
The question's not clear, but the answer is: "soon." 

Soon you will have all the knowledge you crave, 
Soon you will walk straight and tall on your own, 
Soon before soon, you'll be fully grown.