500 Letters
Fuck Tinder
It’s easy to be a person
When you can rely on
Five hundred letters that define
Who you can wine and dine and grind on.
It’s easy to draft with proper syntax and
Adapt to ultimately reach an impasse
Of ethics.
Morals? Ideals? How horribly unappealing
When it’s so much fucking simpler
To hide away your feelings.
Ethics? Ethics? Whose got time for ethics
When ‘ethics’ takes up six whole fucking letters
In your profile and
It’s easy to be a person
Of substance
When substance
Is puffing out your smokestack
In pics of three ring smoke acts.
But you know all the games, yeah,
Remember? You’re a playa:
No one looks beneath the surface
When you’ve only got one layer.
So now you’ve got your filters, yeah
And now you’ve got your bio,
Now it’s time to strut and stalk,
Time to put on your next live show.
Your thumb poised like a hiker,
You flip through likeminded products
With all of the same filters and
All of the same misconducts
That loom over those letters that
Define you as commodities
To the regulars and oddities
In the darkness of the net.
Now jump forward a minute to
A started conversation
Where you both got past the business of
Your substantial oration.
Show off that substance!
Ask her deep, personal questions like
Hey how about that weather, or
Eew gurl, is you a dyke?
Five hundred letters
Define a world of loathsome beggars
Whose only worth and meaning
Lies in sex and weed and keggers.
Five hundred letters
Prove that you are worth more
Than your vapidity in
Five hundred ways to conform
To a society that rewards
The extroverted zombies
Who continue riding cycles on
A path of dads and mommies
Until you’re lying in a grave dug by
The youth who watch the gallows.
But at least your end is peaceful when
You’re used to being shallow (oooooh!)
So swipe for what’s right, yeah
Swipe for your life!
Don’t listen to the thoughts that you
Ignore each lonely night and
Swipe for what’s right, yeah
Swipe for your life!
Who the hell cares about substance?
Keep your eye on the prize.
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