Ain't it sweet?
We're the first generation
To have our nostalgia packaged and sold
Directly to us.

God, most men have to
Search a pawn shop for that.
But not us.
We are the pawns.

Ain't it sweet?
We turned ironic self-destruction
Into a photograph filter.
Now everyone is comfortable in grey.

All of our jokes are about deprecation.
But the humor only lies in
The idea that everything we value
Is constantly depreciating.

Ain't it so ******* sweet?
We couldn't get enough reality television
So we sacrificed a nation
To a reality star.

Now I'm peering over
A pile of dog-eared books
Of poem and history.
Tell me when it's safe to come out