Counting Crows

Trash my boring life.
Rip up my stained Levi’s.
Throw away my Van Halen shirt.
Trash my dirt covered boots.
Toss aside my peace and love.
Disregard my independence.
Aggressive no more.

Dress me up all black and white.
Give me those Sperry’s and Argyles.
The perfect hair and face, boobs and zero waste line.
Paint me into your white picket fence world.
Right there with my perfectly manicured lawn.
Big white house. Black lab. 2.5 kids. One boy. One girl.
Give me that Volvo. School patch.
Perfect all American family.

Complete with a husband who is never home.
Disconnected from his family. A mortgage he can’t carry.
Hey every congressman needs a scandal.
A wife with a “friend”. A pain pill addiction. Spending. Hiring.
Discontent with her own life. Smiling. Screaming inside.
The kids. Perfect little angels.
Little devils with coke habits. Ripped shirts.
Living. Escaping.
The damn dog is the only one who’s got it right.

I’ll take my Dali over Mr. Jones.
Give me Morrison and Manson.
Allow me to live like Love.
Free of Mr. Microsoft.
Just Counting Crows.

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