Electric eyes,
Powered by the dreams of baby boys.
No boundaries for us, we know not a single limit.
Not in this town.
No fear, no place we don’t belong, Golden.
We know what it is to be epic,
Immortal. Never taken down a peg,
Never scathed. No.
Not in this town.
But time takes its toll on everyone,
And these golden boys are growing old.
We’ve traded in our mittens for Isotoners;
Our backpacks for briefcases; our favorite players jersey
For a dime-a-dozen suit and tie.
We grow.
Older, but not brighter.
We’re dressed to kill,
But these old streets are already covered in blood.
Not even our designer sunglasses can hide the
Burnt out stars in our faded eyes.
And this town has become as foreign as can be,
Because our torch has been passed,
And our jig is up, and we don’t belong.
No, never again.
Not in this town.
| Euphemism Campus Box 4240 Illinois State University, Normal, IL 61790-4240 |