Oldies

She loves you yeah, yeah, yeah!
With a love like that,
you know you should be gla-ad.

So glad to be getting old,
so glad I'm going to
fucking die.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I refuse
to listen to oldies.
I'm not in re-runs yet.
When melody
becomes memory,
forget it.

FORGET. IT.

The Beatles existed,
past tense,
half dead.
They used to make us glad,
until the present came
to break our hearts.

I have lived already
longer than most;
with a life like that
I know I should be
feeble and demented.

But don't feed me oldies,
and don't count me out.
Nostalgia? Please.

I'll burn my brains
with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.