I do not want your howl, your growl,
your foul sense of rebellion.
The smell of your teen spirit stings
in my nose,
as it grew and it rose,
like the factory sewage, your soul,
spinning out of control,
oozing from years of your
mind-numbing glare,
and spare me your millionaire air of despair
chewing gun barrel needles
in a holy-than-thou
wasted youth without truth.

Infecting our generations with
deplastic depression
subatomic reflections of nothing important,
in your selfish cry
look at me I am suffering 
how talented am I.

No ma'am, not even green eggs
and ham
can justify your existence
of futile and excess
of your rehab big stab
of vile self importance,
mind impotence,
non-reliance, not even defiance,
mirror reflection and my gag reaction.
I do not want your howl,
your whine of grapes of wrath,
tour quantum New Age math
inside your crystal meth,
deliver me from your fight clubs,
your night dubs,
your fabulous gagas and hollow TV.
I don’t care what you put
in your holy I.V.
That’s no way to be, 
massaging your sorrow,
masturbating till tomorrow,
spare it from me.

I don’t want to know,
I don’t want to look
at your uniformed
malformed sales pitch and hook,
all your fake boob resistance,
it's all gone in an instant.
Your intake of bullshit
suppresses all doubt,
there is just one way out
of this soul-crushing rut, but…
those who listen do not understand,
those who mock don’t have a strand
of bone in their marrow,
spare me your sorrow.

Give me the truth, without any condoms,
deliver me from your
false sense of freedom,
your indulgence of selfish encounters,
with yourself in the morning.
Fuck all your mourning,
and don’t stand up now,
it's too late anyhow
as the dawn breaks his back,
on the torturer's rack,
to supply cheap sneakers for you fuckers and squeakers.

Don’t dare look in my eye,
and to ask me, oh why
Oh, my god, Elle, oh hell,
there is nothing to sell
anymore.
And the Babylon whore
is unemployed as your brother,
with excuse or another
we are all going down.
So why even frown?

Embrace your wallet of shame,
take a good look at fame,
and tell me the truth,
was it worth it?