Dear Angry Older People,
Anyone who considers themselves an adult
Next time you're wondering what's wrong with kids today
You might want to check out the examples
You've been givin' us to work with
'Cuz if you ever want to make sense of us
You gotta make sense to us
Without telling us you're too old
To walk that far
You gotta try understanding why we like looking like rag dolls
Why we like looking like the way we feel
And why we keep our senses floored
When its you behind the wheel
And if you ever really do want to understand
Why we seem so angry
Well, for one, you told us we could be anything
We wanted to be
But right now, we're a little busy dodging bombs.
Okay, and two,
Rather than celebrating the gifts you've got
We more often see you blowing fuses
Over simple mistakes on dinner receipts
As if the waitress was purposely
Ramming you in the ass with dynamite sticks
And branding "Kick me" signs on your faces
It was an accident
You gotta calm down
Rethink this approach
Ask yourself, "What...
Would Bill Murray do in this situation?"
I've seen fish hooked
Who keep more patients in their worst gill
Than some of you got in your best moods
If you were a sandwich at McDonald's
They'd call you the McGrump
You gotta get a grip
Please, it's been another long day
Playing games in the schoolyard
Trying to make sense for an old people who won't be satisfied
So, I suggest you hush up, turn around,
And march those cranky asses straight back to your rooms
While me and your sons and daughters
Try figuring out how to actually use all this forgiveness
We found piling up in the laundry
You still haven't washed
Because you've been too busy
Out prescribing all that hell and giving it away in hand baskets
To those who send cash, act fast, call now,
While this is me without my Prozac
And this is me just shy of nicotine
And, motherfuckers,
It's my second time to fail anger management class
So, for the love of greatness
Please, stop moving the hands of my clock
To the time you had it made
I'm way too busy working out the kinks here
You didn't exactly wind this thing back up
When you were through
Hosing down all the big, bright violent warning signs
We done lit up out in gangland
And down the road to Columbine
Where all these kids you can't seem to make any sense of
Would stop holding you so far off the edge of your seats
If you'd stop holding yourself to the promises you make
We know you're not perfect
Because we're not
And I know I ain't perfect
But I believe I was meant to be.
Anyone who considers themselves an adult
Next time you're wondering what's wrong with kids today
You might want to check out the examples
You've been givin' us to work with
'Cuz if you ever want to make sense of us
You gotta make sense to us
Without telling us you're too old
To walk that far
You gotta try understanding why we like looking like rag dolls
Why we like looking like the way we feel
And why we keep our senses floored
When its you behind the wheel
And if you ever really do want to understand
Why we seem so angry
Well, for one, you told us we could be anything
We wanted to be
But right now, we're a little busy dodging bombs.
Okay, and two,
Rather than celebrating the gifts you've got
We more often see you blowing fuses
Over simple mistakes on dinner receipts
As if the waitress was purposely
Ramming you in the ass with dynamite sticks
And branding "Kick me" signs on your faces
It was an accident
You gotta calm down
Rethink this approach
Ask yourself, "What...
Would Bill Murray do in this situation?"
I've seen fish hooked
Who keep more patients in their worst gill
Than some of you got in your best moods
If you were a sandwich at McDonald's
They'd call you the McGrump
You gotta get a grip
Please, it's been another long day
Playing games in the schoolyard
Trying to make sense for an old people who won't be satisfied
So, I suggest you hush up, turn around,
And march those cranky asses straight back to your rooms
While me and your sons and daughters
Try figuring out how to actually use all this forgiveness
We found piling up in the laundry
You still haven't washed
Because you've been too busy
Out prescribing all that hell and giving it away in hand baskets
To those who send cash, act fast, call now,
While this is me without my Prozac
And this is me just shy of nicotine
And, motherfuckers,
It's my second time to fail anger management class
So, for the love of greatness
Please, stop moving the hands of my clock
To the time you had it made
I'm way too busy working out the kinks here
You didn't exactly wind this thing back up
When you were through
Hosing down all the big, bright violent warning signs
We done lit up out in gangland
And down the road to Columbine
Where all these kids you can't seem to make any sense of
Would stop holding you so far off the edge of your seats
If you'd stop holding yourself to the promises you make
We know you're not perfect
Because we're not
And I know I ain't perfect
But I believe I was meant to be.
( Buddy Wakefield )
www.ChordsAZ.com