The tape's chock-full of your forgotten days.
In streets you walk; in banks you count your cash.
Unknowingly you wander through the haze
Cheap video casts on life. Now there's a flash
Of colour, and, incredulous, you gaze
In recognition. It's that birthday bash
When you got drunk, your cousin's twenty-first.
(Fast forward now? Or stay to watch the worst?)

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