| rdfs:comment | - Samuel and Rosella, Both were eighty-two years old. Sharing an umbrella, Slowly down the street they strolled. And all around the world was changing In a manner of ways ranging. From dialect to fashion, The state of affairs, Absolutely clashin’ with The world that was theirs. “I don’t understand These kids today,” said Rose. “Yeah,” responded Sam, “Take a look at this boy’s clothes.” The young man exiting Hot Topic Made them feel so misanthropic. Samuel and Rosella Didn’t like the way he dressed. They closed their umbrella And they rammed it through his chest.
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| abstract | - Samuel and Rosella, Both were eighty-two years old. Sharing an umbrella, Slowly down the street they strolled. And all around the world was changing In a manner of ways ranging. From dialect to fashion, The state of affairs, Absolutely clashin’ with The world that was theirs. “I don’t understand These kids today,” said Rose. “Yeah,” responded Sam, “Take a look at this boy’s clothes.” The young man exiting Hot Topic Made them feel so misanthropic. Samuel and Rosella Didn’t like the way he dressed. They closed their umbrella And they rammed it through his chest. Samuel and Rosella, They hate your generation With such determination. Samuel and Rosella, They are disgusted, knowing How wrong this world is going, A fact they don’t mind showing. In fact right now they’re blowing up the local mall. And off they hobble, drunk on Geritol. Now after being In love for sixty years, They were both agreeing That the end was drawing near. So, why not cause a little trouble? Who’d suspect a sweet old couple? Rose was always saying,“That kid’s gotta go.” Samuel was obeying, never saying no. Sam was a disaster, When she smiled his heart still flipped. Who’d imagine after sixty years he’d still be whipped? But nonetheless she loved him dearly. They’d hold hands while cavalierly Burning baggy jeans in the middle of a shop, Or killing silly teens for listening to the hippedy hop. Samuel and Rosella, They hate your generation And music video station. Samuel and Rosella, They are disgusted, knowing How wrong this world is going, A fact they don’t mind showing. In fact right now they’re blowing up the local mall. And off they hobble, drunk on Geritol. Off they hobble, drunk on Geritol. These kids today, with their sleepy expressions And their Satanic tattoos And their running around in the arcade parlors And their shiny gold “blam blam” or whatever they call it And their dangerous skateboards And their Chef Boyardees And their dang-fangled computer machines teaching them how to make bombs And their iFrogs or whatever they call it And their automobiles with the wheels that look like they’re still spinning when they stop And their trenchcoats And their colorful tee-shirts with the Marxist propaganda on them And their thong sandals And their Britney Spears’s husbands And their powdered wigs And their peg legs with decals on ‘em And their low-carb diets And their Rockin’ the Vote And their collectible bottle caps And their tiny little cameras inside the tiny little portable telephones And their “For Shizzle McFizzley Ding Dong Dizzle” Snoopy Dog language And their general disrespect towards their elders, Well they can burn in hell, I say, every last one of them! Samuel and Rosella, They hate your generation With such determination. Samuel and Rosella, They are disgusted, knowing How wrong this world is going, A fact they don’t mind showing. In fact right now they’re blowing up the local mall. And off they hobble, drunk on Geritol. (Off they hobble, drunk on Geritol.) Off they hobble, drunk on Geritol.
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