The King Of The Rollerama Lyrics - Singles - Deirdre Flint

At twelve my friends read Teenbeat and wrote to Peter Frampton 

Hung staple-scarred Leif Garret posters by their beds 

It all seemed rather shallow, (my love was more mature) 

It was the kind that ripped an adolescent heart to shreds 

All week I'd dream about him in science and in math class 

I couldn't eat I couldn't sleep 'til Saturday arrived 

Then I'd don my macram vest, a sprits of Jean Natae 

And I would go down to the rink so I could watch him roll on by 

He was a real live eight-wheeled Mercury 

Skating backwards to Take a Chance on Me 

And I'm surprised I didn't just die from such a preteen drama 

In his non-rent skates he was six feet tall! 

Underneath that pulsing disco ball 

His friends called him 'Wheels' he was 

King of the Rollerama 

(Well, he wasn't actually a king, he was a rink guard, 

but to an adolescent on the verge of womanhood, 

There Is no difference.) 

He had a pretty girlfriend (they'd neck in his Baretta) 

Sometimes she wore a poncho, she was so way cool 

She hung out at the Snack Bar 'til they called couples only 

And every time they took the rink, I'd blubber like a fool 

I'll not forget that session during crack the whip once 

Woah! I lost my balance and I fell off to the side 

Oh, here comes my darling hero, too fast for him to stop 

He skated over all my fingers and it didn't break his stride!!! 

I didn't wash that cast for a month! 

He was too much for girls like me to take 

Leaving Old Spice breezes in his wake 

And I'm surprised I didn't just die from such a preteen drama 

It was there I learned what true love means 

As he breezed by me in Jordache jeans 

His real name was Mike, he was 

King of the Rollerama 

One day, the comb wedged in the back pocket of his 

tight designer jeans defied all natural laws of surface 

physics and fell out onto the rink. I clasped the relic to 

my breast with trembling hands and all afternoon practiced 

the words that would fall from my lips to his strong, manly ears. 

Finally, as he was slipping a quarter into a game of Asteroids, 

I made my move, skated up to him and I go, 

"Um, you dropped this. 

And he's like, "Thanks." 

And as he grabbed for the comb HIS FINGERS 

BRUSHED MINE and I remember thinking with a 

clarity far beyond my years, that no event of my 

life would ever equal that moment of perfect ecstasy. 

And to be honest, nothing really ever has. 

Oh, somewhere in this town tonight 

Some paunchy guy clutches a silver whistle tight 

Puts on his old blue satin jacket and relives the drama 

Cause when you're rink guard in a one-mall town 

Well, there's nowhere you can go but down but 

You were a star! 

King of the Rollerama. 

The rumor that this is an accurate, first-person account 

of my adolescence is a fallacy. I never wore Jean Natae. 

I was always the Sweet Honesty type. ~D.F.