A million violent uncivil targets
Spazz out in the chroniclers' atypical response
"bring me back to a place of childhood friendships"
Your whole approach is wrong
You say you're dying for a sprite
I hate the older generation
The smell of indulgence
I hate the younger generation
They smell of ignorance
You now have my full attention
But not for very long
To open a bank account requires my DNA and an IOU for human slavery
Everything you do is wrong
You no longer have my attention
Your verses make me afraid of adjectives
I won't stay until the end
You made me think of the dullest origins of capitalism
And with much pride I shouted out "I am not an intellectual"
The cheers that followed had a quality of uncertainty and died out quickly
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem