Underage tail and underage praise
so shamefully desperate to validate
and even vindicate your assailed name
The blind leading the swine
and that's just fine
I understand it's a race against time
You're not getting any younger, or smarter, or better
possibly now, but probably never
It chews you up but you can't let go
the whole thing's riding on this next show
So when that backstage Betty finally wants to get sweaty
you gotta last long and you gotta be ready
Playing sober to a cold, empty floor
Asking too much, five bucks at the door
Sweating your cut, how much an you get?
Shut the fuck up and open our set
Who am I to judge how many homemade CDs you've gotten rid of?
Who am I to complain when I get to watch you fail again and again?
Who am I to make fun of your scene?
And completely demean your naïve dream
False destiny beckons, you chomp at the bit
You reek of Velveeta and Bud Light and bullshit
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