You were what you were.
A pile full of fashionable clothes
and the fake people who wore them.
A pile full of bullshit.
Alcohol, Drugs, Dancing and Sex.
Acquaintances, Small talk, Banter and Lies.
Out door Out lets
filled with beautiful scenesters.
And hipsters pretending to be hikers,
and hipsters pretending to be hippies,
and hipsters pretending to be whores,
and hipsters pretending.
In door In tercourse
filled with emotionless intimacy.
And loners pretending to be lovers,
and loners pretending to be larkers,
and loners pretending to be loathers,
and loners pretending.
Full of facade.
Full of deceit.
Lacking the genuine.
Lacking the truth.
Always trying to be someone else.
Never trying to be them self.
Trying to be cool,
by being cold,
by being weird,
by being different.
But ultimately becoming the same.
I could find more variety
in an American Apparel.
Now don't get me wrong,
stripped of all these illusions
I am sure there is Someone real,
Someone inside who can actually feel.
But the Austin Elite
have definitely left their mark on me,
a constant reminder of how not to be.
A constant reminder to be honest and true,
and most importantly to always just be you.
