If the world ended tonight,
And
the sky fell from the weight of the satellites,
Where would its
shrapnel find you?
You who party-hops,
You who never
lindy-hops with me, upon request.
You call it ridiculous nostalgia, you call me diluted
And trendy and say I look stupid
With
red lipstick on.
You know
too much about coffee beans,
Che Guevara, guerilla warfare and women’s rights.
You make me nervous.
I keep waiting for you to slip up,
Spit or scratch, show you’re human
To no avail.
If the world ended tonight,
And
the ground crumbled in from toxic waste
Buried bellow our towns,
Would it find you a beer-guzzling spectator
At some cheap peep-show?
Of course not.
You and your raver mentality.
Lousy,
pretentious junkies clatter up next door.
I hate you because
perfect eyes and little lips
make me love you.