We had swim
parties on the river,
Drunk
celebrations on the beach…
Our private
dinner parties,
Placed
caviar within our reach.
Some nights
we wore tuxedos,
Other times,
just Wrangler jeans.
We were the youngster
working class
Living
beyond our means.
We served
ourselves cocktails
From a can
poured into a glass…
Our status
rose from shop employees,
To retail merchants, upper class.
After
leaving Xanadu,
We found
purpose, life and charity.
Miles away
from the social elite,
Who’ve lost
sight of moral clarity.
30 years
later, all of us,
Stay In
touch, celebrating our glories…
Sharing
tales of untimely deaths,
And ex-
employer’s drug overdose stories.
Galas, debuts,
the Divertis moi,
Such
memories, all of these…
The escargot
tasted like mushrooms,
We loved
macaroni and cheese.
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