You Damn Punk Kids

You damn punk kids
with your internet porn
and fake birth certificates
you don’t know what it’s like
working in a coal mine
airbrushing images of beautiful women
onto the fuselage of B-17 bombers
while submarines groan and creak through the rocks
bending as tectonic plates move everywhichway
cracking everything praying your buddies get out alive

You damn punk kids
with your Miley Cyrus
sexting you steamy pictures of herself
she took herself in the clouds above the Raisinets
and lollipops with her green bra and her no bra
and the Apple whatever starts overheating
so the CPU has to shut down half of its multiple cores
and instead of moving pictures you get like cartoons
still pictures flying past you in the sky
like bombers looking to spray out booby-trapped leaflets

You damn punk kids
with your flying over your town without pity
where lawyers are inside puking
and Watchmen are outside shooting
everyone not just the scumbags who walked
because of what got the lawyers puking
and that sound is capacitors in the Apple thing
over-charging steaming hissing sparking
and the tumescent German bomb everyone pretends
came from New Mexico by way of Manhattan
falls away from your Nike tapping
to some Auto-Tune Disney girl singing and dancing
and the screaming Apple thing explodes
and the tilting German bomb explodes
and your plane is a silhouette against a high white cloud
getting blown away by a lower little cloud growing up
and your plane is like a black ink drawing
on very white paper composed scribbled colored
orange and blue smeared by a really fucked up artist

You damn punk kids