I wonder about beautiful people They gather together And stand And move Switching perspectives Always smiling Unless they’re not Then they leave Then they do it again And they say what they say And nothing changes But their view Of one another Not so much their opinion But their angle Because people don’t change They just move
They act out their part But is it who they are? Or who they think they should be? Really they are just desperate To stand somewhere important They breathe a sigh of relief when something intelligent is said Or witty Because it confirms their standing And yet it’s so silly Because what does it matter To be amongst people Or to be alone? It’s all the same Unless you are trying to get laid
I’ve never learned a thing at a party Except that I hate them now I don’t want to be the life of the party I’d rather people not remember me at all Except for maybe one thing that I said One small thing That was so profound that I could not utter another sentence Because what would be the point? Each additional word drowns the previous one into irrelevance Because then they can’t think about what you said Instead they must continue to listen Then they forget And then where are you? Standing next to beautiful people Who one day won't be so beautiful Unless they shed themselves of these things Standing next to beautiful people Who one day won’t be so beautiful Unless they shed themselves of these things