I don't go to record stores; don't have time
All I buy are blank CD's with my dime
Don't file me in your demographic blends
Don't have a social life, I don't need friends.
Music? I don't write, don't play, and don't care
Just a song-stealing psycho, want to share?
Beating the system; staying up all night
It gives me purpose; screw the copyright.
I'm an online loner with background noise
Apathetic to what the crowd enjoys
I am the future; behold my domain
Computer, burner, and wicked eye strain.
Unforced is this path I have chosen to stroll
We should all pick our place, and know our role
You can't chain, detrain, detain, or deny
The 21st Century "Slacker"; I.
©2001 WetSpot Poetry
Back to Homepage