I sit in an ocean of empty Budweiser bottles,
Upon an island of Johnnie Walker Blue,
Mind flittering  through topics,
Whilst Steve Martin rocks the banjo,
Pickin' those old folk tunes.

I'm in a happy spot,
Between buzzed and blitzed,
That place you can only get to on a summer evening,
Or perhaps a bachelor party or two.

But listen to me ramble,
Please,
Come and take a seat,
Your dogs must be barking,
Would you like a cig?
Or perhaps a drink?

If it's neither that's no matter,
It's the company that keeps,
Just ignore my rambling when it crops up,
Treat it like a bad **** on a spring breeze.

You remember old cartoons?
What care and expertise.
Every cell hand drawn,
Fufilling every child's entertainment needs.

But what of old television programming?
What the hell happened to MTV?
Just give me my music videos and rock music,
Even if you can only go as far back as 2003.

Oops,
I'm doing it again,
How embarrassing,
Just a tipsy old fool,
Remember,
A **** on the spring breeze.

But seriously,
What about Vault?
Saturday morning cartoons?
Products as seen on tv?
Cha-cha-cha-chia?
Myspace?
Zines?

Perhaps you don't know what all those are,
Too young to remember the scene,
Of ska, skateboards, roller derbies,
Of Cribs, **** my ride, skating videos, and terrible tv.

Remember it all,
Those strange years,
Young and transitionary.

I remember it all,
Those strange, strange years,
Back in 2003.