Dammit, let's be childish.
Let's allow the pain take us over and run down patterned floors, shrieking
We pass rows and rows, just plain old boring rows with no fun to be had written
And then we see one with a bit of promise peeking out.
You grab here and I here and let's pull...rip it free...let us be childish.
The ones around stop and stare as we collapse in giggled fits
and they wonder, blinking
About how we can be so happy, so intent on this child-fun, but they could
Share it with us, for black clogs, Fubu and cheap-smelling expensive perfume
Them too good...too refined.
See one, over there?
It's open and full of wondrous things that may not seem very nice, but
Oh, what fun it can be to cause such mischief for the Fubus!
Papers marked in red, covers marked in black and blue insults...let's take
And pile them into unforgiving sacrifices to the trash...
Let us be.
So go ahead and wear your Fubus and your Meccas and your Eagles...
Laugh and point and act too refined to care, but deep inside,
I'd bet my backpockets that you wish you were good enough to be like us...
Just keep going...stay who you are...but
Dammit, let us be childish.