Ironic opinions in smoke filled diversions
Remind me of old big tent conversions
They're behind the waffle house
With stereos blaring modest mouse
Where the saved come to get lost again.
“88 tracks, uh, you wouldn't understand.”
Godwin's law applied by the hipstocracy
In that Godless Hipstopolis, run by cruel hipstocrats
Where uncool is the only contraband.
They'll build an empire on a perception
Grandiose Utopian misconception
A world populated by pretty blank stares
Everyone will protest; no one will care.
Inevitably, that moment must arrive
When this earth has come a fire
And pressing conflicts have grown tired
I will know it is enough to be alive.