I’ve never hitched
to a bandwagon
to see where it led

I’ve never clung
to a star
in the hopes
that it goes nova

I was a man
before I learned
to be a child

I gave up the nipple
long ago,
while you cling
to the bottle for security
I don’t want to be
the voice of a generation:

         You people can’t pay attention
         to yourselves, let alone me

And I don’t write this "shit"
so I can slam uptown
hepcats for the big john slam
on sunday nights
And I don’t read this
for the pricks in the back
who can’t keep their mouths shut;
the ones who aplaud the loudest
I’ve got my own fears to face,
my own decisions to make;
and the one voice as I leave that says,
"That was pretty good"
leads me back to the pen tomorrow