I am looking for this totally hot babe I picked up at the Toto concert in I think 81. You were so fucking hot and you didn't mind my cocaine use or my love of Ocean Pacific shorts and Izod shirts. You told me my perm was righteous and with that I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.
20 years later I can't find you. Instead I wake up next to some angry 40 something broad who stays on my back about staying off of the shit and dressing neater. And yeah, I know I am balding up front, but why does that mean I should lose the perm, huh?
I long for your big Jersey hair, your tight ass in those jordache jeans, and your willingness to clean up my puke after a hard morning of coming down. Damn it I love you baby, but I got to be me and if that me is stuck in 81 that is how it has got to be. Accept it.