I have a subtle secret,
I remembered it,
while I stood watching the wild animals,
they're called the just past children,
my goodness how they dance,
youth romancing wildly,
to the crashing, thrashing,trashing beat.

My secret is a little curio,
I too once was one of those creatures,
just before the present day.

Time caught me on her current,
I can't come out to play today.
Olden joints are aching as burning flames and rigid rocks,
long left behind those bobby socks.
I had none anyway.

Punk rock and new romantics hovered in my day,
I had painted nails and spiky hair,
dog collar sported,
but ne'er a vicar,
but never a dog, I didn't bite.

The old crone gives assassinations of their personalities,
making judgement of their music taste and on their motion,
The truth is only mine to speak,
I was one of them,
seems just like last week,

I'm jealous of their fiery youth,
which rolled into my yesterdays,
their style generation x, y and z,
ultimately just like mine,

Guys in make-up,
some dressed in lace,
ears hung with chandeliers.

Baggy in black, which slogans that match,
feet that jump, lashing and kicking,
raging while kissing.
Memoirs of my forgotten worth,
once crazy musical youth.
(C) Livvi