I was standing in an empty lot
the chill hit me
I've seen the limpest minds of my generation
stuffed, dressed up and enlisted
placed behind wheels and pointed
each morning
into the hissing abyss of so-called progress
Not mad, not raving
not loving, not stoned
always seeking out messages
of corporate approval
that say something like
"you have shocked us all by not crossing the line."
always indifferent
and "you are number one on my frequency."
and your women shall all become men
and your art shall be dragged through glittery glue
and your virgin bloody marys shall go ungarnished
that means no peppercinis
you fatass
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