Looking back with rose tinted glasses
Handling the past with kid’s gloves
As you pass through the sunny passage of first loves
Taking the girl to the cinema you thought was so cute
Slapped backs after a sporting game of footie
Riding bikes in the hazy summer days
The blinding blaze of sun that your history that craves
A stranger’s face with sparkling eyes
From a photo you vaguely recognise

Adulthood abruptly interrupted
And naturally corrupted all the innocence
Trading off a non-existent past to justify your
Tense muscles and jaw
From the job you got because you were told
The job market’s a war
What was it good for?
Let me take you on a tour
To let pour the past you choose to ignore
I’ll rip it open, red raw and bleeding
It’ll leave you reeling
Let’s stop these rites of passage Breakfast Club lies
I think you should realise you clearly don’t remember being a teenager
Coz I remember a familiar world getting distant and stranger
I secretly begged to snuggle back in that manger
While my every words lashed out at every danger
Clinging on to the remainder
Of life’s splitting decisions
But I was never that good at long division
All the opportunities I’d thought I’d missed
During a cider-fuelled stumble for my first kiss
Painfully copying all the films I’d rent
As I said “I love you” before I knew what it meant
The parody of soap operas
The paranoia about undoing bras
The self-enforced loneliness
Believing I’d made a mess of my life before it even started
Drunkenly crying on the stairs at my best mate’s party
Embarrassed at asking my mum for rides
Being forced to pick sides
Abiding lies and segregation
Frustration building, waiting
But your way seems less like a painting
Than a contract
Or a blueprint
Or a threat

Your glass is half empty so you fill it with piss
Your life’s flying by
It’s a victim of a drive by
Left bleeding on the side of the road
And you told me that freedom’s a thing to remember
And that’s why you sugar coat your memories
With a million snow white Decembers
Surrendering to a fantasy history
The mystery being you know you’d be happier
If you were honest with your past
Then you’d know why you’re slipping through your own fingers so fast
It’s just harder to accept the pain
But all the same your joy lies in truth
And truth should be your purpose
And purpose is merciless to
The jolly circus that you’ve made of your school days
So pray don’t tell me that they were the best days of my life
Because life isn’t made of neat chapters or separate notions
It’s one long constant motion
Of confused lights and commotion
The best days are now
So accept the sweet-sour power
And build a human being
Because I’m seeing is a present of love
And adventure
And I venture when I’m old
My dentures will still be happily chattering
Avoiding a pension-fuelled “well deserved rest”
And the best part is there is no acid test
It’s all ad-libbed
From the crib to the grave
And your existence is a pulsing rave