I'm running down my eraser.
In fact, I need more paper.
Not crepe paper, grade A papers.
Wrote great papers, mind shapers.
Ones on which professors were elaborators,
maybe one day collaborators.
And the haters walk by
with their head low, noses high
with their cold creepy eyes
and mouths full of hippie dipshit lies.
You can't answer why, how, when
they became egocentric sheep faking electric and deep,
but they're lame and bland.
Tomato, tomato.
What's your motto?
Are you here to win
the garage band lotto?
Drum your tin
and pretend you think
more higher? More faster?
Don't admit defeat?
and go with the deal
more than you feel the appeal?
But stay in your row
fixed and static
an attention addict,
pompous and proud
to be obnoxious and loud
pleasing the crowd
with your cowardly judgements
and confrontational repugnance.
Pyramidal simplicity
necromancing audacity
word salad atrocity
complete with idiocrasy
slice of hypocrisy
Unfriend me.
You are powerful and unique,
but in your face it shows.
No smile lines, you don't grow
You're sick and your brain is slow.
your attitude will fail you
when you lose control.
Just don't masquerade
and talk with your mouth full
of bullshit.