God, I remember
those days with black and white
band shirt tees.
Hickory sticks beating Kevlar,
slamming a curvature hectic and unsure.

I remember those morning,
we rerouted in our desire of difference.
Everyday, we rode the fourth wave,
we rocked, we knew of epic tales,
every morning spoke tyranny.

Thursdays, those rainy days.
Those days of haze,
all tricked out in band shirts,
and tight black pants.

We found comfort easy, we screamed
to those kids in the back, playing their acoustic.
We said those kids, said them, said them…
Erupted easy, we stuck ourselves
into groups together and went crazy, crazy.

Forestry hid us off the street once,
let us cut through, I laughed out
the green to the ground, apologized
but we laughed more.
Then picked up that lighter for another.

Now I can’t wonder.
I mean, those kids and their acoustic,
I think they’re cooler.
Mornings, they’re indifferent.
I forget those tales.
No more black and white.
Do away with the hickory.
I remember the wave.

Welcome now,
ignorant confusing tales
contempt for reality, the reality
hate it now,
stretching passed dislike
all I want to do anymore is leave.
Leave, leave, leave.

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