NPD

Everyone Is Lying To You (Except Me)

When your parents say that

When you get your own house,

You can do whatever you want,

That’s a lie.

When teachers tell you that

When you grow up

You can mess about as much as you like,

That’s a lie.

When your friend, in quick breaths,

Tells you he’s had sex

With a hundred and ten girls

Well, you probably already know that’s a lie.

When a government minister tells you

In an interview

That s/he wants what’s best for you

Everybody knows that’s a lie.

When a priest, or a minister

Tells you that

You were born a sinner

I really hope you know that’s a lie.

When your parents tell you that

You were wanted

I’m afraid that, statistically speaking,

That’s quite likely to be a lie.

But, naturally, when a poet/singer

That you’ve never heard of,

Who knows nothing about you,

Tells you that everyone else is lying to you….

Well, that’s bound to be the truth.

When a poet/singer

That you’ve never heard of

Tells you that everything you’ve ever heard

Is a lie.

Well, you’ll just have to make up your own mind.

Cruel Little Bastards (Not Like Us)

Kids can be so cruel.

(They’re not like adults)

Did they say terrible things about you at school?

Did they say that you’d marry a man who,

Left alone in your bedroom, would try on all your bras?

On his head?

That’s the man of your dreams, they presumably said.

Kids can be so cruel.

I bet they beat you up every day at school

Just because you had an old-fashioned leather satchel.

Ironically, those satchels are now quite fashionable,

And the same little bastards that

Would have beat you up for having one,

Now beg to get one from their mums.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

Class dismissed.

Fuck You For Dying

Fuck you for dying before me

And leaving me

To deal with your overtly racist family

You said they weren’t racist and I never agreed

You said they weren’t racist, just a bit ignorant,

Not well-educated

Like you and me.

They are racist.

And fuck you for not being around for my

“I told you so” triumph.

Fuck you for dying and leaving me

To make small talk with your racist family

And think how I don’t have the courage to confront them about it,

Because it’s a funeral,

And how I would have told you

I hate funerals

And you’d tell me that was a ridiculous thing to say,

You’d say

Nobody likes funerals.

And I’d say

Altar boys do.

They get paid.

And you’d ask me if I ever got paid for being an altar boy,

And I’d change the subject.

Fuck you for not being here for that entertaining exchange.

Fuck you for dying without appreciating

How hard that would make things for me.

Normal things like eating Hula Hoops with cheese stuffed into the middle

Or making soap from the discarded remnants of used-up soap bars.

Or writing stupid poems.

Fuck you for dying without permission

For ruining all our death plans;

The yachting accident,

The falling comet

The misunderstanding with a mob boss

Who looked EXACTLY like you….

Fuck you

For dying first.