American Capital Art Realism, a simple unique optimism:
Americans think of money first,
And vanity before that as they perform their act.
They want to relax but they are so tense as they travel the tracks here and back…
Find a fuck,
Buy a pack,
Fill a flask,
Count money stacks.
(As we keep making trash)
Find that others can relate to that.
Buy clothes tight, or get relevant meaningful tats.
On to make an impact, or just impact.
All for self, this act in fake abstract.
The amount of real ARt we lack…
Goddamn, you see what distracts?
[They don’t believe their message, so how can we? Plain Fact.]
Forget 5pm, it’s not even noon here…
Bitter, frozen feet on the sidewalk, somehow below the sky crystal clear.
To all the geniuses near,
I’ll give you a half-hearted cheers while I drown myself in this beer.
I’ve met about a million worth zero…