Culture of My Generation

Kicking back to watch the debauchery,
I lift up my feet, encased in steel toed boots.
Surrounding me is a cacaphony,
in reflection, I reluctantly recall its roots.

I lift up my feet, encased in steel toed boots-
a rare Polish pair in evergreen.
In reflection, I reluctantly recall its roots-
a decadent wine no one should've seen.

A rare Polish pair in evergreen-
a thong, that is, covered in lipstick.
A decadent wine no one should've seen
results in images that make me sick.

A thong, that is, covered in lipstick
flies against my privacy window.
This results in images that make me sick,
as I watch this wretched show.

Something flies against my privacy window;
I shiver, not wanting to know what it is.
As I watch this wretched show,
I see the work of a tempting whiz.

I shiver, not wanting to know what it is.
Still, what it is matters not to me.
I see the work of a tempting whiz-
a metamorphosis from mere partying to raging orgy.

Still, what it is matters not to me,
be it made of rayon, silk, or satin.
A metamorphosis from mere partying to raging orgy
reveals that hiding beast, bursting from within.

Be it made of rayon, silk, or satin;
in any case, it will be lost by morning.
This reveals that hiding beast, bursting from within
after months of suppression, erupting without warning.

In any case, it will be lost by morning:
that wisp of desire that was once all consuming.
After months of suppression, erupting without warning,
the lust that once raged seems to be fading.

That wisp of desire that was once all consuming
now evolves into a tendril, heavy with consequences.
The lust that once raged seems to be fading,
and if anyone's lucky, they'll only have memories of the dances.

It now evolves into a tendril, heavy with consequences.
My feet hit the cobblestone floor, glad that it is done.
And if anyone's lucky, they'll only have memories of the dances.
As opposed to me, they may have had fun.

My feet hit the cobblestone floor, glad that it's done.
I must escape this lighthouse seat.
As opposed to me, they may have had fun.
But when I see my eyes, my iris is weakened from that visual heat.

I must escape this lighthouse seat,
where once surrounding me was a cacaphony.
When I see my eyes, my iris is weakened from that visual heat
of kicking back to watch the debauchery.