All the Ramones are dead and I am old.
Can you guess which of those two items made the news?
My bottle rocket’s grounded, ashed over and cold,
not hot like when I aimed it at a friend,
both of us drunk, young wildness on the loose.
All the Ramones are dead and I am old
enough to have liked them before they were old,
when they were hot, when they were cool,
not like a bottle rocket on the ground, ashed over and cold,
but cool like benzodiazepines. All my bold
endeavors seem dangerous now. I’m blue.
All the Ramones are dead and I am old.
One time a friend dressed up as Joey Ramone,
but he looked like Emo Phillips, to tell the truth.
My bottle rocket’s grounded, ashed over and cold,
but I might have a little firepower left in my head.
I’m anxious to figure out what I can do
because the Ramones are dead and I am old,
with only a bottle rocket, ashed over and cold.
marniere 