All that’s left is Funkytown
A funky house that’s falling down
A funky wife who feeds the dog
A funky bit of analog
All that’s left is Christopher’s Parade
Across a city sunk in shade
A remnant here of pussy power
A remnant there of happy hour
All that’s done and swept away
A world where we were glad to be gay
And children ran into the sun
It’s a lost world now
And all that’s done
Specimen Days 