Cranky old, grouchy old guys in undershirts,
hang out windows of shiny trucks,
hairy arms plopped out of windows
as they speed in and out of traffic;
retirees on the dole
griping at post offices across America,
dumping ashes on parking lot asphalt,
flicking fast food wrappers into the air
They squeal their tires on curves
through national forests,
cheat regularly on income tax,
shoplift when they can,
haven’t voted in years,
take all they can from Uncle Sam,
from their neighbors,
two helpings on Thanksgiving at the community center,
brag they were in the infantry
but don’t know a mortar from an M-l,
hang flags on their RV’s every Fourth,
blow by mountain bikers on the highway,
piss and moan about the youth of today
These cantankerous old geezers gun
gas farting engines past anyone in their way
with the entitlement of a Raj
Once a punk, always a punk