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The lifeless hair hangs around
pale faces and shadowed eyes.
The jeans sag and bag off bodies
too thin to wear reality.
Born from Pac-Man and stone washed blues,
nursed on anxieties and indifference,
They stumble out on Big shoes
and strive to be original.
But every "New High" radiates
a blast from the past.
Sunflower peace sign re-runs crawl
from the black lipped mouths of
the body pierced deathwishers-
And it's "Groovy" again.
They are the Popcicles of their
generation.
The cool licks of yesterdays today-
And it's "Groovy" again.
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Teenage angst! Yeeoow, my son to a Tee but then were we so different? Perhaps, perhaps not, originality is not the province of the young. They just do not know it until they are no longer young.
