sorry mom and dad I'm in my slumming it phase.
the lack of lines on my face indicate a trust fund baby begging for
change. any way I can get it weather it's real or manufactured
I want all bad dreams to get better. I try to hide but the memory
lingers from the tips of my toes to the end of my fingers.
is this privilege I don't remember. you and I got different agendas.
sorry mom and dad it's my self righteous phase.
don't stare at my uncalloused hands while I preach about working for
change for the little guy change for the little man. in two years I'll
forget all about him. and I'll talk about how naive I was I'll chalk
it up to my cards have been dealt. show me a picture I'll barely
remember when you and I had different agendas.