In the eighties, I had a radio.

I had a real bad haircut

And nowhere to go except Aladdins Castle and Eckerd Drugs.

She had sweat bands, she liked to break dance.

She wore a pair of shiny parachute pants.

I was geek and she was a superstar.

Was it just, was it just, was it just too much to ask?

Worlds were in the space between us.

I guess I shouldve made a sacrifice

Or tried to meet her set of standards.

I had a pretty good collection of Masters of the Universe.

I had Boba Fett and Greedo and I was pushing seventeen.

She had tapes of Chaka Khan and Kenny Loggins,

She knew how to backwards skate.

She had eyes that looked around for the boys

Who I had lately grown to hate.

At the time I was working on a novel

Just another fruitless side distraction.

I sometimes wondered what she would think of that

What if I had wowed her with some fiction

Over wine and crackers by a lakeside?

Would she have just stood back up and moonwalked home?

was it just too much to ask?

Worlds were in the space between us.

I guess I shouldve made a sacrifice

Or tried to meet her set of standards.

But she didnt have respect for the Stray Cats,

I didnt have respect for that.

Rubiks Cubes were not my style and theyre still not

I was into D