Oh, I’m Sorry

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Oh, I’m sorry
Did you expect me to behave
Who do you think I am
Controlled along your radio waves
But I’m not that easily handled
I’m a pretty stubborn kind of guy
& subject to many whims of fancy
Living this life on the fly
I refuse outright to be your stooge
Or carryout all that you have planned
Understand, I’m devoid of rational thought
I’m immature; I’m the Pan

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Immune To A Power Surge

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Immune to a power surge
I sit alone & quietly type
Not affected by technology
Refuse to be your modern gripe
I switched off my terrestrial radio
But I’ll still pound at these keys
I’m not cool or a trendy guy
I’m reserved, doing as I please
There’s never been an audience
Just a few genuine folks
Sharing myself sparingly
I’m better with these slow strokes
I’ll continue to conjure ideas
Preferring to use my typewriter
Nothing fancy; just a love of words
Old, but I can still pull an all nighter

I’m Driving Down By The Beach

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I’m driving down by the beach
Radio tuned to Lana Del Rey
Trying to turn back the clock
Warm, salty air to celebrate the day
Looking for a moment to feel alive
To relive the trappings of youth
Ignoring the aches of aging
To deny the inescapable truth