The young plow the day with thoughts on heads of a coin Imagine glamour of Hollywood poles on which birds do sing Shrug the present plight for the flicker of fluorescent tubes groin Waste away to the grease brothel of fast foods offensive wings The day steps aside and darkness to the present dares arrive For in frolic reverie he hath in waking slept the day till present come Wasted away in fancy to ever away hoping to break into glamour suns Still hoping, few glance through the last few pages of once bygone life A grim heart given to his young days without direction to drive Scratch the furrows, tickle the wrinkles then switches off the light