77

Old books clutter
in second-hand drawers
waiting for someone
to stir them up
and bring back the thrill
of getting stained with beer
speed, uncontrollable anger
eas a needle
pierces their heart.

Where were you in 77?

At 15 you were young
and at 20 already older.
No future, no more heroes
anarchy and fun.
The slogans remind me
of states of emergency.
If the streets no longer burn
who has been to blame?

Where were you in 77?

What remains of those times,
black leather and R'N'R.
I'm talking about Araña,
Abra, Elevator.
What happened to that friend
so tough and cool.
Where are those girls
who knew of my love?