When We Were Young

When I was young and bold and free, 
My hair hung long, my soul ran wild, 
In ripped-up jeans and leather dreams, 
I laughed and spat on fashion’s style. 

We made our music, raw and loud, 
A storm of sound, a fire bright, 
The world would beg, we’d take the stage, 
And burn it down with pure delight. 

Oh, every crowd would chant our name, 
The earth would shake, the skies would roar, 
We rode the wave, we ruled the game— 
Then disco stole the crowd’s encore. 

They swayed their hips in mirrored light, 
Forgot the grit, the sweat, the cry, 
But rock is blood, it’s fist, it’s fight— 
A phoenix waiting in the sky. 

Guitarist, strike! Let lightning scream, 
Drummer, thunder—tear it down! 
We’ll shake the walls and wake the dream, 
And set this dying world aground! 
 
What we create will never fade, 
It storms the mind, it breaks the chain, 
Oh, hear the call—rock never dies! 
We’ll rise, we’ll roar, we’ll reign again!