And big hair sprayed bob eyeliner

It was a 50s scene with the jukebox queen

And the cold called quiet demeanors

It was a 50s scene with the jukebox queen

And the cigarrette smile through laughter

It was a 50s scene with the jukebox queen

And the high shorts waist no higher 

It was a 50s scene with the juke box queen 

Life a black and white paradigm

With future technicolor things

And amazement in Cold War calamity

With space race arms race this race that race white race black race plant race human race out of time and out of space

 the chasing never ended...but they convince themselves it never began

So back to our 50s scene (now 60syeah ) 

There's no jukebox queen

And the burger shake orders did end

The streets filled with grassroots protest 

In a Vietnam conquest 

No friend did neighbor find to fend

Silent pot smoke vans in places

Possibly permitted turning up to 

Places shrugging shoulder knocking knees.

 It was a 50s scene now its the 70s heavy hearted Duress

With disco child birth coming soon 

With a billy-Joel Springsteen and the coming of days

Music rock disco electroand a psychedelic aftershock

TV Shot the radio star left her bleeding in the streets

Technicolor dreams fully realized from acid tabs tongue taken

Show up on billboards faded filters memory mistaken

With a soundwave shock they shot that old jukebox and melody floated far far away

With Elvis in his bathtub death 

And a Nixon watergate wanders free

So with a nostalgic haze came the 80s cocaine craze 

Our generations waits idly to be conceived 

Then in the 90s flash we came born into the 21st century 

So I sit with a technologic high

Whose the biggest whose the baddest

Whose phone processes fastest

Look a mirror lemme see

Everyones in love with me

Here's a snapshot let me tweet

Yeah there's nothing on my feet

I'm a gruff misunderstood hipster

With top knot lies and prepared alibies

I am the centerfold of universal ambition

Post modern thoughts about presupposed pasts and a very faint understanding of what it all means

But I yackity yackity yak yak about the burdens on my back and my misplaced love from parents who don't understand me.

CuZ I love everyone but I really love myself and I am afraid everything I am is what they will see

So I create aesthetic pleasure in fantasy visions of myself and live in dreams backslash . Com 

 

So I sip sad hymns and think of us simpletons 

So advanced and yet so behind

By myself my phone and I 

Dine at dinners I can't afford 

With credit card crimes

And films pirated

I'm a jukebox dancer lived alone

Feeling oddly misplaced 

And sad mistake of a self-obsessed 

Generational mess 

 

I miss old cars and laying under the stars 

And bowling alley entertainment

Though I've never had it I feel as though I have

Kafka existential déjà vu

Waste of time 

So sad so sublime

Generation Y what did u do?