Flowers in the rubble 

they were born in crystal towns
glasses inside their eyes, a cellophane heart
rampaging  through infatuated streets
clinging on to fleeting stories
of ghostbusters and tardy glories
they were seen
petty and uneasy

the tune we used to listen to when we were 17
the rock of the masses and the pop of the uninvited
"we're sorry we are naughty,
but not for stealing a line or two in your afternoon paper"

silence for the loud ones is like crunches for the crippple
our pride will tow the glow
a twinge in your toes, a flashing hotel room
a fear of accomplishment devours their oath
to move on and flaunt their new routine

the tune we used to listen to when we were 17
the rock of the masses and the pop of the uninvited
"we're sorry we are naughty,
but not for stealing a line or two in your afternoon paper"

say no it's a maybe doesn't matter anymore
Trojan hopes plastered with ketamine
i was scared before i even believed