Broken promises and broken homes make for happy typical teenage rebellion.
When the revolution starts you'll probably snitch to the closet cop trying to save yourself from any kind of risky change.
While some create wildfires in the mind, while they create art or inspire the culture, you feed off the hype and try to play along like you're not a victim of fashion.
When the **** hits the fan you'll be the first to blog about the wave of crazies making life hard for everyone else while wearing a *** Pistols shirt and a bobblehead of Che Guevara waves in your stylized room.
You speak of Kafka while coughin on the name brand cigarettes you call depression.
You're a bi-polar baby using the newest app to transmit the **** you force us all to swallow and yet you wonder why everyone grows tired of you.
Chalk outline in the inner city and a candlelit vigil makes for a nice twitter post but it takes a twit like that to stand on the graves of the dead and talk about politics because a few hundred die but what matters is your opinion in the public eye.
You're the reason why Ziggy broke the band up. A freak of culture with a connection to the internet. When the revolution starts you'll be late to the party and you'll miss the bus but lie about how you were there in the front line- but tell me cupcake how can you support civil unrest when you sleep 8 hours a night and take a nap during the day?