I've nitpicked these porcupine quills
til I was left with a fistful clenched
like the gravel beneath gravity's pull
And I threw myself together a smile that
matched the illegitimacy of a generation
drenched in green slime and no where
to go but drive thrus that won't end
It's a fantastic imagination meets
Whooly mammoth procrastination
If the worlds a stage then who the ****
pays who to play it and where do I
apply for the collective **** fame ****