I realize the old days weren't better
But there were less helicopters overhead
and the nights were far less sticky
and my chances of trudging home alone
after last call were significantly slimmer
There were more spirited arguments
and less sullen silences, less sidelong glances
and more good-natured ribbing
All my dead friends were still alive back then
Some of them were not even my friends yet
Some of them I hadn't even met yet
But it's true that the valleys still echoed
with hoarse cries and gunshots, with curses
and guttural moans, backfiring cars
and the howling of cats in heat
and the same people who walk in fear now
did so then as well, though maybe
we were better at ignoring them back then
maybe they were better at remaining hidden
as were those who pursued them through the night
and still do
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