Though I'm not too sure I have the answer
I like to think on it now and again.
Like, "What happened to our old friends?
The ones who left the state when
their parents got better jobs and moved away."
It probably wasn't their fault, no not at all.
But we can't help but wonder why they never called.
Saw your last name on a cemetery tombstone.
Thought about how all of us are slowly getting old.
Looked down at my feet,
saw the bouquets wilting
from the rain this past week.
I told myself I'd never come back again
without a proper cause or a reason.
The grass is far too wet for these soles,
we can't leave without getting damp ourselves.
A friend got in a fist fight, said he's feeling alright.
If I thought he looked bad, well then, I should have seen the other guy.
He asked me what I thought about bastards getting off
by punching humble people like us.
And, "How come we're always told what we are doing wrong?"
And, "How come it's always when we're doing what we want?
I can't be the only one who doesn't want to grow up or shut up."
Is that enough?
It's not enough.
We'll take our petty coats and wear them until their
buttons fall off.
We'll wear our tennis shoes and run until our
bones show through.
We won't ask for anymore, no, this is all we can afford.
We'd rather be poor than ignored.
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