I’ve wanted to be the kind of girl
That’s too good to know
What everyone else is so wrapped up in.
You watch your own sitcoms
And hum your own lyrics
So you have no obligations to me
Or their networks or BMG,
But my greasy hair isn’t
Politically motivated
And the super-cool T-shirt;
It isn’t mine, but at least it’s clean.
That’s how to get through a day
Read Cosmo for the sex articles
Sing on your own terms
Smoke your candy cigarettes
Write horrible papers and
Talk them up like some
Shakespearean-metaphorical-pseudo-genius
Because after all, it did take time
To make the first letter of each line
Spell out: I bite my thumb
At this ridiculous pretentious world.
