Maybe I want to be young again

in the past—I mean before

the world went totally totally mad.

And men, the greatest tragedy,

finished themselves off.

Maybe I want to be young again

when there was time for art and conversation,

seduction and warm breezes.

When there was a magic to being young

and a dream was not a crime.

Maybe I want to be young again

when dreams were convincing,

elegant, fragrant, and worth the time.

And it was delightful to be human,