You can’t all be good guys, folks
They aren’t the same the kind of people these days
That I grew up with, you know,
I mean watching them through time’s yellow haze
They seem ragged and riotous and low
Not at all as intelligent as my old friend
Though looking back I see the same roles
The acts of courage and idiocy that in the end
Got us up some serious political poles
Not they aren’t the same they are younger
Like a whole new breed needing to learn
Filled with passion and pride and hunger
And over the same future they yearn
I wonder if I was on that shelf
I would even ever like myself.
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