Pull back to strange colored days

Dragging hours headed to twisted weekends

The age of condoms, smokes and 99 cent noodles

Sheltered in ancient humid dwellings

Poor with private room equals wealthy youth

Sweltering, buxom bodies dubbed club and beach goddesses

Tequila, salt and limes trumped milk and eggs

Arrogantly pontificating decades later

Still envious of scantly clad freedom

And relishing my glorious air conditioning