There comes this point, this point of twilight,
Where the sun melts, bloody, till it dissapears-
And everything will eventually succumb to the night-
Too much hurt and betrayal and fear.
You come to this point, this point of stagnation,
Where you fall into an earthy silence,
Complacent with your maturity-
your deflation.
Let others write, speak, thrash around,
They, too, will become wordly wise,
They, too, will soon hit the peak, and then crash down.
Only Youth bothers, hear them shouting,
Hear them cheer:
"Here's to couples, in their 80s, who still hold hands,
Here's to Coney Island, its vast and littered sands,
Here's to girls, hurting themselves, cuz they think that nobody wants them,
Here's to boys, keen on destruction, cuz their fathers' sins haunt them.
Here's to fun and pain, injustice and crime..."
Oh, the poor Youth, they'll wisen with Time-
Time beats all, on the heart, with a stick,
It's poison is steady, works effectively, is so quick-
You come to this point, this point of defeat,
Lethargy- call it experience- has again won!
Now, you let others yell and attack and entreat-
But you idiots- you have lost the Sun!
You have lost the Sun.