Hey, I knew you when you had frosted-tip hair
When you listened to The Smashing Pumpkins
When you were lazy and carefree
And you copied off of me.
Hey, I knew you when you aimlessly wandered the halls
looking for a vending machine and a quarter
When all you had was a backpack and angst
When your car had no bumper and chipped paint
Hey, I know you
Not as this sniveling, disaffected perfection-pusher
Not as some right-winged orator of damnation
Not as this devouring greedy pencil pusher on a pedestal
I want to go back and show you the new you
You, the coward.
What would the you of then think?
Sep 30, 2011
Sep 30, 2011 at 8:47 AM UTC
Hey, I knew you when you had frosted-tip hair
When you listened to The Smashing Pumpkins
When you were lazy and carefree
And you copied off of me.
Hey, I knew you when you aimlessly wandered the halls
looking for a vending machine and a quarter
When all you had was a backpack and angst
When your car had no bumper and chipped paint
Hey, I know you
Not as this sniveling, disaffected perfection-pusher
Not as some right-winged orator of damnation
Not as this devouring greedy pencil pusher on a pedestal
I want to go back and show you the new you
You, the coward.
What would the you of then think?
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