Son of Almost Haven (or Now Who’s the Badfish?)

Surrounding myself with hometown heroes of high school past
I found myself dyslexic to their four years’ worth of change
An old man and a small child eaten alive by twee twenty-somethings
“We must flee,” they corresponded, but made no attempt to do so
Is this my one life or are such notions merely delusions?
Seems it’s time for us to catch up with all the right dudes
So let us call out to naysayers from fourth floor balconies
To embrace that which they might not know has come
It is time to move on, the loser, the lummox, and you
Jennifer’s sobbing reaction to my lying for pie may guilt me
But I have miles to go before I can sleep by myself at night.

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