Lost Boy

I was once one of your number

We sang like we wanted to

be on the cover of the Rolling Stone

and you helped avenge my honor

with ransom notes

and we laughed and laughed.

Not enough skeeball in the world

will keep me in your good graces

if there ever were any.

The pen was mightier in the sword,

back then.

Now cold actions

cut deeper

than words ever could.