1994

In 1994, I thought I knew what it was all for.

The Flaming Lips were transcendent.

The summer was pregnant.

With possibilities and hope.

Labia in the sunlight.

Everything felt right.

The generation wasn't labelled.

Punk rock was fabled.

Music had aspirations.

I was filled with inspiration.

Pavement sitting pretty.

Stephen foxy and witty.

'Baby don't you cut your hair.'

'Baby don't you be no square.'

Now music is programmed.

It's all a sham.

Everyone makes their hundred grands.

But there's no future for those with talent.

And the world is off balance.

Only the beautiful sit on the throne.

Bereft of vision but their plans come to fruition.

The rich and famous just want another buck.

Baby they don't give a fuck!

Now it's twenty years gone by.

My how time flies.

I know more but understand less.

I'll bet you can guess

That there is no happy ending.

No one in power has integrity.

Baby it's plain to see

It's all me, me, me.

I wish I didn't care.

I wish I was unaware.

I wish I didn't have this feeling.

That we've already hit the ceiling.

In 1994, I thought I knew what it was all for.