Twenty-One

You're 21, and still just as pretty.
No longer in a cute way, but finally in a sexy way.
You were pretty attractive for a kid, but you were still just a kid.
You're 21.
Why did I have to know you when you were 17?

17: such a precious age.
Too precious for a man of conscience.
Too precious for a man on the right side of legal.
Too young for a man so old.
You were pretty ambitious for a kid, but you were still just a kid
And you taught me once and for all that I was too grown up to hang out with a kid.

You're 21
And I wish you had been then
So I could have taken you to the places I went to.
The places where they carded and knew how to spot a fake
And would have thrown our asses out if I had tried to sneak you in.
You would have liked the club that occupied my Friday nights.
But now that you're 21, it's gone -- and so are you.
Why did I have to know you when you were 17?

You were still in high school
And you were pretty mature for a kid, but you were still just a kid.
Therein lay the trouble:
You were too mature for your peers, but too much of a kid for me.
You were smart and kind and generous...and young.
Young enough to do the dumb things a kid does.
Maybe that was my excuse
For I could relate on all counts.
I knew you because I was you...many years too early.

You're 21 -- and I no longer know you.
I knew you when you were 17.
When mother cautioned me against being near you and talking about you.
She warned me that people would get the wrong idea -- even if nothing happened between us.

Nothing happened between us.

Nothing could have happened between us.

Why did I have to know you when you were 17?

You're 21, for what that's worth.
And all things considered, it's worth nothing.
You're all grown up now -- so what?
I'm the one who let you go when you were still just a kid.
Who would I be to come back now?
And why would you let me?
I'm old news...or just old.

Why did you have to know me when I wasn't 17?