I see a fat kid, twenty eight and aging
A welfare old kid, casting sideways eyes
At store front windows to make sure
S/he's getting smaller, to take up less space
This is a small place, we cook in snake oil
A young, self-assured place, still fitting graves
Even the sun shines on this necrotic fixation
Everyone lives in maudlin infatuation
I am neither, born of the expanse in-between
Shrink,
Tiny aspirations, that's us!
Shrink,
Shrink with me into the night in the land of rolling holes
Six feet, at least, sweet destiny sweeps sooner, so soon
Shrink,
Tiny aspirations, that's us!
Shrink,
Shrink with me into the night behind the day,
in the land of thick lipstick over genocide
halp.