In college you played acoustic guitar
And wished you were John Mayer
Now you realize how lame that was
And pretend to be into Slayer*
You completed the six year plan
And moved back in with your dad
You can only stay at my place
Because I'm not allowed at your pad
We can only go to dive bars
Because you think they're "realer"
You leave me waiting on the street
While you meet your coke dealer
You spend your days smoking
ensuring you're always blazed
Showing up late at your job
With a pocket full of jays
You've grown your beard out
It suits your plaid shirts so well
Aging hipster or rapist?
We can't really tell
You want to bone lots of girls
And not commit with just one
So you turn into a douchebag
And act confused once they're done
All this is excused
Because you're "into the arts"
You gently stroke your labret piercing
A new pseuso relationship starts
You're not hot but kind of funny
You roll your eyes at what's not hip
God how I want to punch your stupid face
And knock the PBR foam from your lip
* ironically, of course
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment