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Array
(
[sid] => 20892
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Old Dragons
[time] => 2003-07-24 11:05:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => This is where all the junkies go, All following their mother’s and father’s mold. The same old life, left out to dry, Same road traveled always, because no other they will drive. Back in town, dancing a dirty break beat, Trippin’ on the grass that had always grown beneath their feet, No way, it hasn’t changed a bit, No fire? Give it to your daddy, he’ll light the *****. Ask it loud now, but you’ll never know. Get the question out and just move on. In the end all will be forgiven, surrender all that’s high. We haven’t always been the clean ones, you and I. They take it outside, they take it out there. Always been this way when they were offered a dare. Surfin’ on a dragon that had always burned their cells. Leaving them dumb and restless with memories of everything they’d ever smelled. Tradition and traditionalism, two things they’ve never understood. The traditionalism stubbornness and not changing when they probably should. Lying in a tradition that had a bond on them all. It’s good to have a past but not one with a closed mind. Doing the same things everyday, repeating the same mistakes. So smoke that pipe, Smoke that grass, Just know we’re all behind you, Calling you and a**. Because some are too dumb to change, Growing the same dead flowers, Passing up a life, wasting the hours. Others take their goods until the dumb retire. Lying in a grave now, they, the old dragons, All covered in dirt with an epitaph that reads, The grass finally caught up with me. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 147 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Red_Silo [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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