Generation X

Rotten, rotten, rotten,
tastes lie flat on my tongue
of mistakes we make to hide ourselves
when we find ourselves too young.

We'll die for our own image,
and worship our own deadly friends
who cage us like the sick rats we are,
scraping for a light at the end.

Oh! How we toil!
And Oh! How we try!
But our own lukewarm past
is a sick alibi.

And of only the world were better!
If only we understood!
But weed makes our thinking hazy -
and you know we would quit - if we could.

Oh, woe, are we teens, of Generation X,
our lives are gone strait down the drain.
Though they would be better,
were it not for the weather,
and us causing ourselves so much pain.