We don't have those faces anymore
Those neat mohair double breasted suits
No longer fall so easily
Off ones slender frame
The little black dress
Is passed down the charity shop line
Should there be another do
It would be a more sombre affair
No wild abandon lovers
Who brought their flash of light
To the instantly
Gratified journeys
We won't pace
Outside doorways anymore
Those fretful eyes that cried tears of joy
Now employ another motive
Thighs that made grown men sigh
Are hidden by jeans of denim brut
Should we choose
To regain our youth
It would be with nostalgic flair
As he randomly discovers
One could forge a clash
With dissatisfied attorneys