So I'd like to encourage everyone, including myself, to be slightly more understanding toward the old bitch in the grocery lineup, paying for her groceries by counting out the exact change veeery veeeeeeery slowly. Also, here's a poem that expresses the exact opposite sentiment.
Gen Y, by foxinsox.
Blog writer, dream buyer.
Impatient bitch, dirty liar.
Give a little, take a lot.
Retro's in, now it's not.
The iKids, the Dye-Kids,
The don't DIY or Try-to-Fly-Kids.
Pretend punk-rock, false love,
Pretend to bleed, false blood.
With no God, no Faith,
But still a part of Heaven's Lathe.
So don't ask, don't tell.
Older People go to Hell.
2 comments:
Who keeps fixing my formatting? Is that you, neo?
And I'd've gotten away with it too! If it weren't for you meddling kids...
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