So, you’ve graduated high school?
That’s all right.
You’ve put up with hormones
and some worthless fights.
You’ve made some friends
who you’ll soon forget,
and recorded some events
that you’ll live to regret.
You may not know, but the world ain’t hard,
it’s easy enough if you want,
just walk with head high,
but not in the sky,
and your mouth shut…
just in case
a wasp flies in your face,
cause they’re out there,
like innocent passerby’s,
and soon you’ll be twenty, a quarter way dead,
then you’ll hit thirty, and you’ll realize with dread,
that time’s ticking down and you ain’t done nothing yet,
except lived without caring, unworried, unset,
And then will come forty, and acceptance may come,
and by fifty, the youth will seem awfully dumb,
and by sixty, you’ll shudder, but keep a grin pasted on,
and by seventy I hope that you’ve passed on,
because otherwise dentures, bifocals, depends,
cause that’s usually the way a long life ends,
with shit in your pants and a grin on your face,
and a look in your eyes that’s just out of place,
cause you’re looking backward while going out,
finishing your spin on that small twisted route.
So, now that you’re out of school for the summer,
for life, or until next semester—
pray you die young with a life full of sins
rather than with regretful shits and empty grins.