Even Nostalgia Ain't What It Used To Be!
So where are they now?
The fermenting, fearless comrades,
Of my coke and coffee days.
Where are they now?
Where lies this corrupting body
Of wild ideas,
Once brazen-faced with eyes ablaze?
In a lurching, alcoholic stupor,
Or a crazed, shambolic haze?
Where are those,
That would change the world,
That could never change
And why the phalanx vanguard,
Left to fallow on the field?
There can be no simple answer,
No shroud of common tale;
But the odd and mild placebo,
Of an idle betrayal.
But there was no
Swift, clean, clinical amputation
Or dismemberment, either!
Just a slow,
Into social dissonance.
To me, it is a painful thing,
The torn skin and abrasion,
Selling out a generation,
A running sore, of bad faith,
And distorted memory.
But I go on!
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