We clung together in our groups of fours and fives,
And spritzed ourselves in Spice World spray
That hung in clouds above our hair
Brushed through and through with coloured wands,
The bane of mothers’ lives, as they washed it out
Of pillowcases, still the pink of little girls.
We’d laugh between ourselves, over copies of our magazines
With names like Mizz and Bliss and pictures of our stars,
The Britneys and the Backstreet Boys that filled filled our lives
As we lolled on sofas made of PVC, squeaky and inflatable.
I miss those days of blissful youth when teenage love
And hate and drama filled the air,
I miss those days of Dawson’s Creek and weddings Greek
And big and fat and spots and creams,
I miss those days of teenage dreams…..