9.Underbite
So how you fuckin' feeling tonight？ We're ( insert name here )
from
unimportant, and I'm about to mimic some image of a rock and
roll
singer I have under lock and key. Without the faintest hint of
irony that
I'm flashing my pearly whites to sustain my mediocrity. So is
everyone
having a good time tonight？ Good, I'm glad (I couldn't actually
care
less). You guys are the best crowd that we've ever seen, seen
with
these old dead eyes. Blind to the stage or even my own lies. So
hey
ho, let's go. Let's start this contemptible rock show.
Blinding lights
to hide the hand up our ass in this puppet-sock show. Two sewn
on
eyes, repurposed and made new, torn from an aging suit for a
sense
of déjà vu. Thumb underbite. I bite my fucking thumb, and hope
you
catch a thread, and slowly come undone. An illusion seldom
spoken. An
understanding between you and I that the ground that you stand
on
is somehow less than mine. An allusion to a broken home, left on
the
street and chilled to the bone. So hey, we still feeling good？
Now you
comprehend our complex relationship consumer／consumed. You're
just some stupid kid and I'm a megalomaniac. Here comes that
tortured
artist now to sing of his despair. Shedding defenses for an
honest
creation. Placing yourself in the stocks on the strap. You're
disgracing
your effort by conforming to textbook performance of music to
fill in
the gaps, and it's bullshit. It's bullshit. Be honest, this
can't be what you
wanted, if what you write about means anything to you. Rather
than
pure vanity, people might connect with sincerity. Don't just
pray the next
generation learns from our mistakes. Let's not repackage the
same old
performance. Original content is so much more rewarding. I know
that
it might be quite cliché, but if all the world is in fact a
stage, then this
stagethis here goddamn stagemight just be all the world.
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