Dead at 21
When I grow up it would be a pity, to be a lunkhead on Sex and the City.

Worrying about my job and my taxes; spending my days making copies and faxes.

Comparing different types of insurance; braving this life requires endless endurance.

The end is near, now what do I see?
Diminished invincibility;
Ever increasing mortality;
Annihilated community;
Cause I’m dead, at 21.

Paying a mortgage that’s become an anchor; get home late and face the missus’s rancor.

Fall asleep watching 60 minutes snoozing; no more good pals to go and do some boozing.

Hello to internships and to job fairs; let’s go a bowling- I’ll get me some spares.


People disperse, in every direction; it’s a Diaspora, it’s a defection.

So long to frat parties and all my drinking; I’ve made no future plans, what was I thinking?