deepundergroundpoetry.com
Rose Colored Glasses
I grew up in a wonderful time
of POGs and 150 Pokémon
woke up early Saturday mornings
just to watch the latest cartoons
playing with my Giga Pet at school
singing the pop songs of the time
wasn’t white, but still was fly
can’t help but think
what happened to just being a kid?
have young girls these days
looking up to famous whores
young boys being so self-entitled
when I die
send me back to the 90's
where love meant something
your words were written in stone
the scars we had were scraped on flesh
maybe this is how my parents felt
like their’s before them
I remember sending letters
took more thought than a text
my crush wrote back
ended it with XOXO
riding bikes around town
with trading cards in our spokes
causing trouble with other kids
it was a time where
quality still meant something
and everything wasn't combated
looking through rose colored glasses
maybe, but who gives a fuck
the future still fucking sucks
so send me back to a time
when we had rental stores
art was still appreciated
music was more than a bad beat
and a mumbling fool
people didn’t just follow the leader
truth was always truth
maybe this is how my parents felt
like their’s before them
of POGs and 150 Pokémon
woke up early Saturday mornings
just to watch the latest cartoons
playing with my Giga Pet at school
singing the pop songs of the time
wasn’t white, but still was fly
can’t help but think
what happened to just being a kid?
have young girls these days
looking up to famous whores
young boys being so self-entitled
when I die
send me back to the 90's
where love meant something
your words were written in stone
the scars we had were scraped on flesh
maybe this is how my parents felt
like their’s before them
I remember sending letters
took more thought than a text
my crush wrote back
ended it with XOXO
riding bikes around town
with trading cards in our spokes
causing trouble with other kids
it was a time where
quality still meant something
and everything wasn't combated
looking through rose colored glasses
maybe, but who gives a fuck
the future still fucking sucks
so send me back to a time
when we had rental stores
art was still appreciated
music was more than a bad beat
and a mumbling fool
people didn’t just follow the leader
truth was always truth
maybe this is how my parents felt
like their’s before them
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