Coloring Books

by Daniel Thomas Moran

DYLAN's LOST somewhere on tour,
with that same dopey look.
All that shakin' that was going on,
has been really over-shook.
The Woodstock Generation,
is driving Cadillacs to the woods
The Clash and The Pistols together
could not deliver us The Goods.
What the hell is left,
for a bored suburban kid to do?
But go down to Main Street,
for another tattoo.

I've seen clips of that Elvis dude,
grinding to the crowd.
The Beatles singing,
"All You Need is Love"
filthy rich and ego proud.
Jim Morrision leaning acid dipped,
in black leathers and heeled boots.
Debbie Harry’s blondie locks,
were black down at the roots.
My Mom wore gauze blouses,
all the boys could see through.
I just think I'll take myself down
for another tattoo.

The Punks all had safety-pins,
piercing noses and cheek.
Legions of hippies so believed,
they were so hip-ly unique.
The world’s running down,
the youth culture’s gone gray.
What was blowin' in the wind,
the wind has blown away.
Even HipHop's's getting wrinkled,
suede shoes got black and blue.
I'm getting tired of texting,
with the same old lonely crew.
Think I'll find me one more spot,
For one more tattoo.

I can't afford proper bling,
On my minimum wages.
Right now I'd give up my skin,
for something really outrageous.
If I can find a bare spot,
I'll be inked up through and through.
I might have just enough cash,
for one last tattoo.
My Great Grand-dad had tight jeans,
and cropped hair full of goo.
Give me a palm full of XTC,
another cold bottle of brew.
Let's go get really wasted,
and get one more tattoo.

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