2007

 

I remember I was reading Us Weekly, 

watching True Life on MTV, 

listening to Britney. 

Something about Hollywood turning good girls bad. 

Remember Amy? Drunk, high on PCP. 

Had me drawing on eyeliner like damn, 

she looks just like me. 

Something about Paris, 

about Nicole Richie and Lindsay.

I put their mug shots in a frame, 

cuz isn’t that fine art, babe? 

It’s true, I prefer my girls strung out and rowdy. 

Put ‘em in an Audi, 

crash it in the final scene of My Super Sweet 16. 

Something about those girls. 

Girls who disappear for days, 

girls taking Adderall and living in a daze, 

girls doing lines, 

girls posing with loser guys. 

It all happened so fucking fast. 

Sounds about right. 

It’s 2007, bitch, 

type c u l8r to the boyz you’re texting on your chocolate flip phone,

tune in to the drug addict du jour,

get your mind blown. 

Blonde hair, 

long legs, 

a mysterious disappearance. 

Where has she been, Serena? 

I take a bong rip, 

another sip, 

can’t wait to find the fuck out. 

You know you love me. 

Who, Chuck or Nate?

 The bad boys are the ones we love to hate. 

It’s true, I can get down with this crew. 

Pop a few benzos in a limo, 

sip a martini at Marquee, 

bridge and tunnel, who? 

Couldn’t be me. 

Three words, 8 letters, say it and I’m yours.

I hate you. I love you. 

All my assignments are past due. 

Took my first eighth of mushrooms, off to paradise I flew. 

Rihanna still made music, babes, these were simpler times. 

I remember we were hating on Jenny, vibing to Georgina. 

It’s always the sexy ones who get us into trouble. 

Upper East Side or bust! 

Let’s get drunk, head downtown to smoke angel dust. 

We aren’t as young as we once were. 

Something about Lindsay leaving clubs covered in… Baby powder? 

I could watch this trainwreck for hours. 

Shave your head like Britney, dye your hair like Bynes. 

I got a DUI and a UTI, yeah I party.  

Who am I? It’s Britney, bitch. 

Or is it Lindsay? 

Whichever one makes a comeback first, I guess. 

I’ll send you nude pics as a flex. 

Share your coke with me, learn what comes next. 

You know you love me. 

Something about those girls. 

Had me fucking in a strangers Lexus thinking, 

well now I made it so what’s next? 

We chase the white lines and bad guys. 

We take a plane to Utah, 

piss in cups, 

get drugged up. 

That’s not what I wanted my mug shot to look like. 

Something about Euphoria, a new generation of degenerates. 

Another one bites the dust. 

It isn’t 2007 anymore.