and every stifled scream, whose luxury demeaned
the gnawing hours spent
fermenting
our moldy heads
cementing
our acrylic dread
repenting
our happy days
if only theyd just go away  
 

four eyed beaches, I remember
one bright smile, I remember
three syllabled poems, I remember
though now I think I made them up.  

And every private tear, were too ashamed to shed
With the dandruff and the sebum
Of a thousand filthy heads
We smear it on our hands
And wipe away our tears
And smile all our filthy heads
At all who wish us dead.