“What shall we do with our
Selves this afternoon?” You cried
“And the next day,
And the next thirty years?”
We paraded, masqueraded
Cultivated jaded looks
Screamed and scratched and scrawled
In composition books
We were pathfinders
Original settlers
You wanted to be F. Scott
I wanted to be Zelda
Lost Generation
“What shall we do with ourselves
This afternoon?” You cried
“And the next day,
And the next thirty years?”
Unafraid, we stood
Naked at the ball
We screamed and scratched and scrawled
Our manifesto on the wall
We were pathfinders
Original settlers
You wanted to be F. Scott
I wanted to be Zelda
Lost Generation
Generation lost
I did you dirt and you
Did me damage
We were never offstage
King and queen of the Jazz Age
“What shall we do with ourselves
This afternoon?” You cried
“And the next day,
And the next thirty years?”
We custom-made our own crusade
And played nursemaid to our best selves
We screamed and scratched and scrawled
And yawped and yawned and yelled
We were pathfinders
Original settlers
You thought you were F. Scott
I was so Zelda
Lost Generation
Generation lost
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