Everybody’s so fucking photogenic,
Their make-up makes up for everything about them
Their faces never stood a chance of breaking through the scene.
Gathered, they’re all so fucking clever,
They got marketing jobs and business administration degrees.
They all tongue bullshit fluently.
Everybody talks like they practiced
lines in a mirror a thousand times before they risked it.
Popping roaches, crackling desperately for notice.
Even the tension is laid back,
Playing it so cool it’s technically dead
The cosmetically deformed dancing to their overproduction.
Goddamn it’s lonesome in a crowd full of what can’t even be confused for people.
You try to get to know strangers but these folks stay strangers because there’s nothing to get to know.
I’m writing this letter to you because at least we get to come home to each other.