Insane thoughts
are makin’ sense
and nothings past
this present tense.
All that seems to matter
tonight
is tonight
and that I stand here
in the light
This generation
with a letter,
an experimentation
of despair,
specimens of some different sort
just waiting for Pops to die
so we can finally get to drive
Impatient for our turn at the wheel.
These boomers never knew.
These trippin’ hippies had no clue.
They quit on us.
They fucking quit on us.
You know what I say?
I say give it up!
I say you fucked up!
You know what I scream?
I’m not just a slacker Xer,
some wayward drifter,
a born to lose loser.
I just want my turn at the wheel.
I just want my voice to be heard.
The tide’s a’rising
and I’m realizing
the timin’s right,
to steal the night
and ride this breaking wave
into the light.