Can I walk away and call it a day?

Everything is gray.

I risk being the so-called rocker clich�.

I write about shit.

The typical love/loss/psycho torment,

Suicide to commit.

I get bored and I feel like a dimwit.

A poster child

Of all of the DNA of the world compiled.

A girl defiled

By an industry that leaves the youth beguiled.

It will all be gone.

You just might be today�s Icon.

Tomorrow at the Exxon,

Or down the street mowing someone�s lawn.

Or on a reality show like The Surreal Life.