The Suburbs

I love it here,
Where everything is beautiful and fresh and new,
And nothing is real.
Where plants and people decompose to plastic.
Renovate, remodel and redecorate,
The plastic melts, and reforms.
New schools, new homes, new fees.
Maybe this time it will become a tree.
Maybe this time it will become me.
And I love it here.
Because it is safe and friendly and clean
And all the people are happy.
And everyone's future is bright.
And ivy-covered professions will embrace us all, here.
Because we are the Golden children.
We're the community that God looked down upon and smiled.
And we hate our parents, and we hate our friends, and we hate our teachers,
And we hate ourselves.
And we bitch and moan and curse and sin and weep.
And we are scared.
But we're all happy.
All laughs and smiles and broken hearts,
And walls surrounding us.
Around our towns, our homes, ourselves.
And then we crawl under our sheets,
And pray the world might let us sleep.
And let us die and let us feel.
And let us breathe, and be alone.
And I love it here.
Here, in Suburbia.
Here, in Neverland, the Forgotten Land, Nixonland.
I love it here where it is safe.
I love it here where everyone is happy.
I love it here where I can hide.