The lost generation, yo

Dear all,

I am feeling mardy. Here is a poem for you.

I’ve heard about them kids today
That they don’t stand a chance
They hang on streets and drag their feet
And look at you askance

And folks call them belligerent
And cite ASBOs as proof
Lamenting for a bygone age
Oh, disaffected yoof!

I’ve heard about them kids today
That they don’t have a hope
They’re on the brink of drugs and drink
They sit around and mope

And daytime chat and antiques shows
Provide little enjoyment
When towns are rife with trial and strife
And stinking unemployment

The papers and the radio
Say there’s no future for them
They’ll burn and yearn and even learn
But still there’s nothing more than

A refuse job, a retail job
Forget about career!
Just slog until the week is done
On Friday: have a beer

And so we all pack up our dreams
Work in administration
We hapless yobs, we hopeless sods
We long-lost generation

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