Runways and humid Sundays
Were the fun days of the past:
Tropical forests with boa constrictors
89 degrees in the tree tops with nothing but a rope to straddle.
Street dances and flash mobs,
Blunts and disco lights blazing like a Stockholm rave,
Tiesto would’ve been proud.
Ah, but we were young then, young and bold
Like lovers in the spring.
But with summer love
Comes the fall pain and school started again
With nothing but chaos for us to claim.
And now it’s cold, miles from the Kuala Lumpur
Paradise of years past and Studenskii Grad parties
Go on without us because we’re too old to care,
Not in body, but in mind
And it’s mind over matter in this world
Of empty glitz and glam:
But I still dream about the runways.
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