MATURITY TEST

In Sunday best, confronting

the Board examination,

the cold diploma stunting

your hitherto elation,

Your placecard in your wallet,

the teachers, ceremonious,

the lie – which is your first debt,

your adult credit onus.

[Refrain:]

With joy inebriated,

only ourselves we’re fooling,

maturity-test sated,

so grown-up, done with schooling.

Dance on, my love, keep moving,

dance through the night, so surely,

your crossroads ball is proving

mature – so immaturely.

Rosettes and ribbons waving,

the band percussion’s beating,

the time for chorused raving,

militia-joining, bleating.

Now your dilemma rages,

“For or against?” now bothers,

you’re waiting, due, your wages,

like patriotic others.

[R:]

You’ll get, instead of loving,

tree-headed neo-riddles

from those who are all-knowing,

four-headed answers, fiddles.

The wine that, sparkling, swishes,

the girls’ fine robes, comprising

not children’s dreams, or wishes,

just grown-up compromising.

So dance my love, keep moving,

dance through the night, so surely,

your crossroads ball is proving

mature – so immaturely.

[R:]