thru a hole in a natty lite can,
let cherokee feel yr ashes.
and when the snow wafts
we'll sing christmas caroles
of surendered lust
and 666 pagentry
wondering if anyone is paying attention.
confessions on sucked tailpipes,
and medium sized venues.
a bedroom in belleville
or on morgan forde
where dirty deeds really are
done dirt cheap.
we all want someone to pay
the hipsters biggest fear
is that they are as vapid as everyone
and the anarchist's biggest fear
is that they are as vapid as the hipster.
and those people waiting in line in the cold
at the north side food pantry
don't give two fucks either way.
when i was little i thought i was a snowflake
when i was a teenager i thought i was a revolution
when i was a young adult i thought i was a manic deppresive
when you are in fact, an adult is there anything you can be but the sad truth?
i think so.
who cares if we are the next big thing
in the underground
where kids with dreadlocks
ride the waves in the sewers.
rat sez the trees are still disapearing
but the water tastes just fine.
come down here
an echo cries--
we'll waft you back up eventually.
we all want to be
the antichrist of love---
and when the end is sooner than you think
you might as well live up to all that,
you'll be thirty
right before your own eyes
with a degree
and be nothing but just a nice fuckin guy
and look down at yr coffee
in the mid morning
"well damn, this folgers tastes alright."