THINKING

Listen, there was no time to play with my friends

I was a child slave--cooking, ironing, cleaning

the home--more and more as I hiked up

the valley to the hill of teeager.

 

Yeah, I wriggled a hoola hoop and

dumped a couple of hoops, then,

I watched the parents laugh with their friends--men, women, and

then there was a fight every night--the parents screaming and

cussing and

babies still coming, and,

I changed the diapers and

had the stewing volcano quenched with a piece of pie and

I watched the setting sun dipping behind

a little boy running to ride the rollercoaster, yeah,

I was a juvenile--grumbling, sulking, whimpering,

panting, huffing to hurry past that teen hill.

 

Listen, my friends are gone, grown, parents of

their own.

and now we are adult slaves, but I wouldn't change it for the world.