I’m sitting here wondering why,
People put an expiration date,
On something not brand new,
How is it not still great?
And not still worth its weight in gold?
Do you have an answer?
Or will your mouth just continue to hammer?
At what age does this classic,
Become trash to fill a sack?
Is it actually,
Without a doubt,
Truly fucking worn out?
Or might you be kind of close-minded,
Just following the twisted thinking,
Of your fellow mankind?
Antique to me means much,
Not out dated at all,
And as such,
I’ll keep a hold on it,
Because an original,
Versus a copycat,
Why the fuck,
Would I give up that?
Isn’t necessarily behind the times,
No need to pawn it off for cash,
When did gaining another year become a crime?
A heirloom, a treasure, a relic,
Not ancient or creaky or clunky,
It shouldn’t be cast as an outcast,
To a pile of unacceptable junk,
But be a collector’s item,
To be recycled,
To brighten your days,
And to remind you of the good old ways.