timeless

Fuck touchscreens.
Can never do this shit
so I pretend like this is a gameboy,
and yeah, there you have it.

White screen burns my eyes
as contact lense solutions
are too fucking pricey.
And this shit ain't going nowhere.

Dead poets move mountains-
my words can't wait to die.
Greatness find itself a reason
and I wish you can tell me why.

Call yourself Slothface or whatever

all you want, we all know that it's you
behind all these convenient curses
and try-hard pretentious poetry.

Lets hold hands and witness
this historical moment
of an obviously predicted crash,
moments after the "crowd" has left.

Not with a grand bang, raining men,
towering flame reaching seven skies.
Replacing ministers and scams,
making headlines for months.

Lets say goodbye while its dying
like fishes drowning in acid,
and you're the only one caring
while nobody gives a fuck about it.