 It's increasingly ironic how often my time is spent Staring at some red-blue-green lights as my corneas are bent By a fragile magic talk box with a black reflective screen As I watch all of the funny like I used to on TV Say some words that are nostalgic and I'll pray to you with likes Substitute my inner growth so I can go to sleep tonight It's so cap or some bullshit that we say to stay in trend While we silently get better by hoping the world will end Maybe one day I will put down this device that's in my palm As it softly rolls me back in time to where I most belong But I'm not 16 anymore, I'm not adolescent I'm an average adult white guy who pays way too much in rent So maybe I'll find a portal, maybe God will strike me dead If he does then like my boyfriend I hope he goes for the head But until then I will watch and weep and let my time be spent Staring at these red-blue-green lights as my corneas are bent