Growing Up

When I was a little boy,
Life was so much fun.
Whether or not I had a toy,
I'd make do without one.
As a teen I'd still play.
Now the toys were real.
G.I. Joe was thrown away.
G.I. Jane was Ideal.
With new Jane there was a mess,
Much different than before.
It was when she lost her dress,
In our usual game of war
It was wrong but felt so right,
In the foxhole where we'd play.
There was no room it was so tight,
My gun misfired to my dismay.
When she felt the hot gunshot,
She would put on her dress.
Leaving me to hope a lot,
She'd come back to make a mess.