let’s hear another typed-out angry song
by the kids who used to belt it out at girl scout sing alongs
i’m the rebel, i’m the devil, i’m the wrong side of the tracks
dress your eyes in black, babe, cuz there ain’t no going back.

let’s run off sell our souls to that little-known new band
that’s belting out the anger we pretend to understand.
cuz who really gives a damn about a poem’s punctuation?
cummings won't be left last-picked by this here t-ball generation.

g’head and paint me with a face that you can fear and you can hate,
and then put me in a suit and send me out there to debate.
ain’t gonna learn tchaikovsky like some one-fourth asian chick
so you can ooh and aah with grandmamma ‘bout how i grow so quick.

so go fill in every bubble for the “none of the above”
and find me some white hipster boy my daddy never loved.
let’s criticize and roll our eyes at rulers of the nation.
cuz who really needs a pitcher in the t-ball generation?

oh no, don’t give up on your nobel prize to go express your hate
just write an angry poem with “immobilize, obliterate.”
go wonder how your screamo band will look on college applications
rebels wear white collars in our t-ball generation.