• Read me in the slogan on my shirt
    the music I absorb, the books I devour in three great bites
    Read me in a vacant stare, the uniform of our ennui
    Read me in the weekend show, the Xs that declare, like battle scars
    my allegiance.

    Speak up or black out.

    Read me in the violence of my eye, the tongue that tastes like chemicals
    the marble heart and granite head that is wasted
    wasted youth on youthful wastrels
    all the better to represent out generation.

    You'd better paint your nails, you'd better
    sing war songs in your bedroom, and dance along
    scream along to your tires
    rim your eyes in red and black.

    Laugh at oblivion, laugh at the dark
    mourn for the buried but
    don't mourn too much.
    Don't trust statistics
    that poison label might lie to you.

    Maybe it's a new kind of zen
    No ideals, no aspirations
    no ambitions, no desire.
    Read me as a Satanist, a hedonist
    a nihilist or maybe
    I am Buddha awaiting enlightenment
    or just a pompous poetry-writing p***k.