Displaced
Jonothon sighed, and tried again. You take a song, and you twist the words around.
"But why?" Angelo asked, frustrated.
Cos it's fun. That's why. Jonothon rolled his eyes. And it's a hell of a lot easier then writing a brand new tune everytime.
"Fine, fine..." Angelo frowned.
Rightio then. Let's go.
"I think I hear the sounds of then,
And people screaming,
The scenes recalled, by minute movement,
And things we've done, inside the rec room.
That certain texture, that certain smell,
To lie in sweat, on familiar seats,
In tangled limbs and sweat drenched hair.
In a room, of remembered kisses
That certain texture, that certain smell,
Brings home the happy days,
Brings home the day time heat,
Out on the couch, we'd sit,
And the sexual tension, we'd feel
We'd watch Julie tease all the guys
Laugh and think, this is Mutant High.
The talking's awkward - we remember too,
Long silences, and glancing from you.
And in the distance, we know we'll remember this,
But we'll never tell anyone who wasn't there.
That certain texture, that certain beat,
Brings forth the day time heat.
Out on the floor we'd sit,
And the tensions rise again,
We'd watch Vort and Spike suck face; good, Vort's breathing
Laugh and think that this is Mutant High.
To lie in wait, in familair halls,
Waiting for that one person to notice you.
In a place full of teens you can't help but notice
That certain texture, that certain smell,
Brings forth the happy days,
Brings forth the night time sweats
Out on the poolside we'd sit,
And the tensions would rise,
We'd watch the girls swim, in their bikinis
Laugh and think, this is Mutant High.
Inside the classrooms, we'd sit,
And the teaching, we'd try to get through,
We'd pretend we were actually listening
Laugh and think, this is Mutant High.
This is Mutant High, this is Mutant High, this is Mutant High..."
OOC: To the tune of Sounds of Then (This is Australia) by Ganggajang.