Imagine waking up tomorrow and being thirteen again.
If you could go back
Would you?

Skateparks and Starbucks nights
Blue Banana and stripy tights
Apple Sourz and staying out every weekend.

Remember when Megh was emo?
When Jack was okay?
When Sid used to sing
And Jessie was a Goth?
When Josh-u-a and Jones were the cutest couple around?
Remember?

Friendships and breakups
Laughter and comfort hugs
The Forever & Ever we used to believe in.

Imagine waking up tomorrow and being thirteen again.
If you could go back
Would you?

I cannot be doing with this peering into the darkness
This wondering and dreaming is a little tiring, my darling -
As tired as the dusty cornflowers, once upon a time, beguiling.
Your heart - perched and sat - is being wasted, love pouring
Upon something that will be, nevermore.

Hey, Superstar!

Yeah, you - Indie Kid! Sure you are. You strut around as though all

                                                            ­ ­                                                    it takes

                                                          ­      is

a few too many Wombats Badges,

Converse, Ripped Jeans (Add one addiction to New York, and, of course, the necessary)

          Stupid f#cking Nose Rings and a Drop-Dead-*** exterior. Name three songs the Ramones wrote and I might not rip that shirt right off your back.
You pretend to love festivals but really, you’re just Keeping Up Appearances; we all know that - like you’re some bad reality show. (Even MTV wouldn’t touch you. There. I said it.)

And then

               There is her: a carbon copy eyeliner addict in her

       Stupid stupid stupid! boyfriend’s

F#CKING C-H-E-C-K-E-R-E-D SHIRT

(And the tunnel she stole from the girl that started this.)

Don’t even chat to me about red-head and dip-dye.
And when did AC/DC become your social suicide?

          You harp on about individual, rap on about original, well excuse-me-SIR-ever-so-sorry-MISS-but-dress-yourself-in-sheepskin-­­because MY GOD IT SUITS YOU BETTER THAN ANY PAIR OF VANS.

Haha. Baaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Baa baa, Indie Sheep, have you lost your mind?

‘Cause your personality at least seems to have gone for a wander.

          And come back, in a FASHION -

Tarred in fake love for Nirvana and feathered with the only fatefellshortthistimeblink-182yoursmilefadesinthesummer song you know.

*Feathers? Really? I just told you that you ought to be woolly!

You are the only one I need to tell. Smooth, blank, neutral.
You wait. Wait, wait, wait.
Forever waiting.
For I am never exhausted; never will I tire.

Out of my head and out of my heart, in this half existence
I am suspended,
Pen over page.
And you wait, unbiased and unprejudiced, for me:
For me to scar you with my words.