Take your fake tans and apply them where the sun don’t shine-
on your skin, the elements coat pigments with grime.
Whatever floats your boat in humdrum motes numb with asinine,
Whatever furs your boots to make it through the assembly line,
Whatever North Façade is worn to abort an inventive mind.
Do whatever it involves to belong to the messy bun catalog,
or steroidal cliques with laughing fits in numbers broad and strong.
Whatever lines your eyes in order to decode labeled designs,
Whatever plucks your brows and allows consent to be unkind;
You’ll do anything but be genuine to get your sun to shine.