Admit It

ADMIT IT! Despite your pseudo-bohemian appearance that vaguely set your doctrine of beliefs, you know nothing of art or sex that you couldn't read in any trendy new york underground fashion magazine...Proto-typical non-conformist. You are a vacuous soldier of the thrift store gastapo. You adhere to a set of standards and tastes that appear to be determined by an unseen panel of hipster judges-BULLSHIT-giving your thumbs up and thumbs down to incoming and outgoing trends and styles of music and art. Go analog baby, you're so post-modern. You're diving face forward into an antiquated past, it's disgusting! It's offensive! go stick your nose in it! Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself? You spend your time sitting in circles with your friends, partipicating to each other, forever competing for that one moment of self agrandizing glory in which you hog the intellectual spotlight, holding dominion over the entire SHALLOW....POINTLESS...conversation. Oh we're not worthy.

When you walk by a group of quote-unquote normal people you chuckle to yourself, patting yourself on the back as you scoff. It's the same superority complex shared by the high school jocks who made your life a living hell, makes you a slave to the competitive capitalist dogma you spend every moment of your waking life BITCHING about! Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself? You're free to whine. It will not get you far. I do just fine, my car and my guitar. I'm proud of my life and the things that I have done, proud of myself and the loner I've become.

Well let me tell you this, I am shamelessly self involved. I spend hours in front of the mirror to make my hair elegantly disheveled. I worry about how this album will sell because I believe it will determine the amount of SEX I will have in the future. I self-medicate with drugs and alcohol to help treat my extreme social anxiety problem. You are a FAKER! You are a FRAUD! You're living a LIE! You don't impress me! You don't intimidate me! ADMIT IT! Why don't you bow down, lie on the ground, then walk this fucking plank! I'm proud of my life and the things that I have done, proud of myself and the loner i've become. You're free to whine. It will not get you far. I do just fine, my car and my guitar, and I am done with this. I wanna taste the breeze of every great city, my car and my guitar. You're urgently unfulfilled, when I'm dead I'll rest.