August 6, 2011
Cold air runs through their veins, I always thought.
Never listened to the stuff they taught.

Our generations divided in two.
And we hated them through and through.

But what I never get
Is why they still have no regrets?

Though we treat them like cr**

And they keep on yelling back until their voices crack.

Generations so misunderstood and in pain
In a world so very vain.

Cold air runs through their veins
If we never will be the same

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