Too Old Young Men


We’re a couple of too old young men
Who keep going back, again and again

Calling each other on the phone
Time’s passed, neither leave it alone

Caught in dark delusions
Fears fed by nightmarish illusions

Our memories explode
Upon those desert roads

Telephonic recollections
Disharmonic introspections

Our Hysterical ramblings
On the historical trampling

Of an Arab nation
In an empirical aggregation,

Of power and petroleum
And a dream that we sold ’em

With the butt of a gun
‘Neath their hot desert sun

Just a couple of too old young men
Who keep going back, again and again

— Stephen Handlin

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