1962

It’s Nineteen Sixty-Two, high school days are through,

haven’t got a clue, don’t know what to do.

Got a high school ring, half an ounce of gold,

The ten bucks it’ll bring, is money I can hold.

Workin’ at the Super Save, the currency I crave,

I’m toilin’ like a slave and I barely have to shave.

Pretty blue-eyed blonde, secret crush I hold,

Looked at me and yawned, guess I ain’t that bold

Cuban Missile Crisis, scares me half to death,

Feelin’ kinda’ helpless, barely catch my breath.

Tried to go to college, hated Chemistry,

Had a mental blockage, somehow I got a B.

Ain’t lookin’ at no future, there’s nuthin’ here for me,

The world’s in such a blur, no path that I can see.

Maybe I’ll drop out, maybe join the Corps,

Or I can take the Hippie route, or fight some stupid war.

Now Buddy Holley’s dead, Ritchie’s gone as well,

Sputnik’s flyin’ overhead, the world has gone to hell.

LDT Sep 25, ‘21

Published by thillld