(c)here's to Everyman

Rooms jammed full of faux intellectuals.
Yes, pretention, yes, education.
Let's push our glasses up our collective nose.
Wear houndstooth scarves
where we all smoke cloves.

Yes, I understand.
No, I don't agree.
Lean left 'cause it's cool
or rather, 'cause it's not.

We drink PBR on our off hours
and capture ourselves w. vintage cameras
held high above our heads
angled in mirrors,
solo.

Tweed jackets w. too short sleeves
sparrows on chests, exposed
thru bright neon V's.
And nothing's wrong,
nothings wrong,
our time is playing a borrowed song.

But cheers to that
'cause we're all goin' down.
Trust fund's up
S'best we blend.
Thin legs on fixies swinging
like our stretched out lobes
-but-
that's not so pretty anymore.

So stitch 'em up and grow a beard.
Buy some Av's or Ray's and a calculator watch.
Not that we care,

'cause we don't care.