I miss the innocence in elementary 

when we were k-i-s-s-i-n-g 
in a tree,
you and me,

because I’d rather worry about cooties
than an STD.

You see,
 when a boy liked a girl,
he could almost guarantee
a few wet willies and a wedgie,

but maybe that’s how we trained,

washed our brains,
the idea we gained was that

girls were gross and boys were gross

and these inequalities blossomed into 

he fucked her and she got fucked over.

I miss the days of red rover, red rover,

searching in a field for a four-leafed clover,

instead of searching for feeling
while kneeling over.
When a band-aid would heal your wounds 

and the bus would be here soon

but now the bud will be here soon

and instead of shooting for the stars
we’re shooting up the moon
,
the only clowns at the parties

are the guys not getting laid,

too drunk to be saved
and 
if you’re not then you’re crazy
,
because if you’re not killing brain cells,

or losing something,
whether it’s your car keys or virginities
,
you’re wrong.

Remember when jack and Jill
went up a hill
to fetch a pail of water

and we didn’t question it or start rumors.

Remember when Mary’s little lamb didn’t try to get into her bloomers.

I want innocence,
don’t want to have to be on my defense,

or put up my guard when a boy asks me to dance,

because I know he wants more than the hokey pokey.

I want to swing in the park, play tag in the dark,

without a drug in my body or a care in my mind.

I want to search for treasure, or whatever I can find.

I want to reverse time, go back to my prime,

when I could tell a rhyme
that didn’t have a moral implication,

and didn’t make my conscious implode,
but innocence doesn’t have a barcode 
and if it did,
it'd be illegal
for those type of hallucinogens.