Indigo Generation

Did you see my breath freeze?

Like a car crash

Resting a beat before impact

Into a icy north-west night


We were the imported vagabonds

Set free on the street corners

To stair down satellites

And holler underground love songs

To an acoustic strum


Did you see us on the sidewalks

Prophesying with Dylan

And rewriting the constitution

With a sharpie pen

Rebelliously held in our left hand

Waltzing with the Birdman

To the metronome of car horns


We lived in coffee shops

Huddled in corners

Sipping venti americanos

Talking activism

Folding The New York Time into paper flowers

Bouquets for the next potential squeeze


Catching their eye with cardboard protest sign

And graphic t-shirts

Stating This is what I stand for! This is who I am!


Counting the goosebumps running up our arms

Like we were tallying votes

Zipping up our thrift store fleece

To keep in the radical imagination

Or the cloud of pot smoke wafting into the ether

Wrinkling our pierced noises

At the undertone of false doctrine

That permeated even the indigo generation


We picked fights against the masses

Belittling the upper class


Sleeping on friends velvet couches

In vintage converse and wool coats

Waking up late

Extending the dream

Of a world who understands us

Terrified of beige, mediocrity, normality

Living like our parents or not living at all

The moment we might become unremarkable


Death to the street dwelling standers

Prescribed by the western world!

Toting gatsbys and hobo gloves

We shall trek onward into the night