Nostalgia
Nostalgia ain't what it used to be, okay?
Whose ashtrays are they, anyway?
Your rose-coloured glasses are the way,
Gilding those dim, dark, distant days,
All this romantic foggy haze,
All water under the bridge these days,
Survivor baggage best kept at bay,
No need for maudlinity today,
Nostalgia ain't what it used to be, okay?
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