Roadside diner, its red seats.
Checkered floors, rock ‘n roll beats.
My poodle skirt, we’re sitting
on leather seats, his grease lightnin’.
Blak girl is suffering,
her denied humanity.
A woman conceals her blue face,
forever tied to his disgrace.
Sex is redefined,
we’re dancing through the night.
A Beatles song, a mini dress.
Youth’s optimistic distress.
An unjustified war,
foreign families torn.
A young boy, he won’t know
his ancestry and dreamtime stories told.
Roller skating the streets
in bell-bottom jeans.
Orange van with florals.
Cherry cola in glass bottles.
A revolution ignited and
the petrol price rises.
A family home gone
to a mortgage they can’t afford.
Synth-pop and MTV.
A new mall, purple slushie.
Casette tapes in his car.
Neon skies and bright stars.
A gay man will die,
a cure prejudice won’t find.
His lover holds him tight,
before his last goodbye.
New episode of Friends.
Baggy jeans on men.
Nirvana on the radio.
Skateboards on the patio.
Kids on crack and
recession came back.
Civil conflict’s on the rise
and so is teen suicide.
When I was young
I didn’t have much fun.
So it’s no wonder
I’m living in nostalgia.
With wrinkles on my face
I look back on those days
while everyone is moving on
and life just goes on.
History will be retold.
We must learn from the old,
not with love for aesthetics
but with care for our present.
It’s time for me to grow up.
Don’t romanticise the days of then
for it disregards the truth
and the hardships of youth.
It’s a disservice to all of you.
