Quadrophenia

Hearts in hands, there’s turmoil on the beach
Mods and Greasers, batons and trudgeons
Shod tanks, screaming nails and gaping windows
Glass confetti on the streets

Making out in back alleys
That’s sex in a door jam
Get your rocks off Rockers, fall in love for a moment
The moment
“Goddamn it all to hell”

There’ll be raw meat cold on the eyes tomorrow
As Triumph and Lambretti prance with chestnut mares and scallywags
Petty hoodlums and an avowed intent of riot
Enfant Terribles

Your friend stole your lady (if you could call her that)
Threw fists up in your face
Then the bike, the cliff
Cut chalk and powdered surf
Your broken wheels and spilled two-stroke a fake eulogy
“Wot a fuckin’ liberty!”

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