If Random Lips

If headphones and drums
Ain't enough for the centuries between us
Then may the fury and suburban bore
Be drawn in the bullshit of random crack lips
May the teenage urgency be, in naive lust, pleased
Below strange, filthy, stained jeans
Felt by hazardous hands, filling the place and time
Against teenage disease, against hometown, ghost town, dead town walls

One of my oldest.