The Generation Gap

We're all on the platform it's quarter-to-eight
A handful of schoolboys - our train's running late
But we couldn't care, oh no, not at all
We're scratching our names on the dusty brown wall.

The scene never changes - it's always the same
The people, the posters, the station, the train,
The bloke with the blakeys who walks up and down,
And that fat little bloke with the permanent frown.

There's the woman who stands in her own special place
And stares at the rails - not a smile on her face.
Some people do crosswords and others read books,
There are boring old adults wherever we look.

Now the books are all closing, the newspapers rustle
The train's coming in and they're starting to bustle,
Then strangely, each one (every day it's the same)
Walk down the old platform to get on the train.

We like to play 'chicken' and 'last person in'
The train starts to leave, but we all want to win.
We mustn't give in - it's our unwritten law
Then all of us suddenly bolt for a door.

We bundle aboard - what a laugh, what a game!
The 'stick-in-the-muds' don't agree and complain.
We think they're so boring, so dull and so thick.
At least we like fun; get a thrill, get a kick.

I swear when I'm older that I'll never be
A boring old twit like the adults I see.

______________

I'm down at the station it's quarter-to-eight
I should be at work, but my train's running late.
I'm thinking this grubby old place needs a clean
When a handful of schoolboys arrive on the scene.

The spit and they swear and they call us rude names
They're noisy, abusive and play silly games.
I find myself saying thinking, "when I was a lad,
I simply had fun - I was never that bad."

-But all of a sudden - to my great dismay,
I recall that was just what my dad used to say.