‘Children of a future age,
reading this indignant page,
know that in a former time,
Love, sweet love, was thought a crime!”
- William Blake
Oh and another rollover,
in this surrogate city -
lost dreams ain’t such a pity,
(when I’m with you ‘cos you’re so pretty)
And the grey sky looks insignificant compared to your white hoody.
So lets go spray it with joy,
at the fact that, at this moment -
in time, we’ve found a meaning.
“We’ve found it man” - in that café,
with our cigarettes and coffee,
“Oh it means so much to me;
when we get the whole room to believe,
in some cosy revolution for sure
it knocked me right out”
Lock me out.
Now we’re young and when
we’re old we’ll
conquer the fears of our youth more bold than
when we were young and had only boldness to live on.
But now that we’re old and have conquered our youth
we have proved exactly what we found,
years before,
in that café with our coffee and cigarettes
- The truth.