The world has become those girls,
who show up to a rave, clutching their handbags
and walking around nervously, with a spray can tan.
Always subject to the whims
of their coke addled boyfriends,
as they are grabbed firmly by the arm,
and thrown back into the Land Rover.
A pensive collection of players,
showing up to a jam with their guitars and drums,
and never playing a note.
only to lower their sunglasses
and offer a suggestively callous look to the revelers around them.
I get it, you're a mystery,
but nobody has the interest to figure you out.
So, shake your ass already.