So Much Noise
Every Tribe a Tongue
We all of us must grow old and die and so
I better selfie the shit out of myself now, here,
In this bathroom mirror with my head
Pressed against the head of my bff, or not
Quite my bff, my bff for tonight, or whatever,
I don’t even know what I want, what I want
Is to not be afraid, not to die, not to live.
My bros and me blazing trees, checking out the hotties,
All said totally ironically. Pancake House!
The ceiling! I am broken and alone! Then start it all over again,
Because we all of us must grow old and die and so
I better vine the shit out of myself here, now,
Or no one will know I’m alive, none will know
That I lived and grew old and died within myself.