Often time’s girls will be flocked around me; bubbly and bright
Babbling on about whatever ‘adorable’ antics
The various boys they’ve been stringing along
Have cooked up to impress them

And I just think to myself
(Silently)

About how half baked these dates and plans are
The pathetic plans to go to ****** little fast food joints
Every other idiot hormonal teenage boy
In the midst of wooing with his current consumer

And I just think to myself
(Silently)

That oh my stars, I could do so much better
If it weren’t for the blind eyes of these lovely girls
I could be a chef of a million stars
Compared to the pitiable plans they’ve been spoon fed for oh so long