To Hell With Boring

Who wants convention, stability, quilted bed coverlets?

Who wants totality, conformity, tan turtlenecks?

Who wants to be the same, when different is more fun?

Why drive the tree lined road, when you'd rather run?


The trappings of comfort aren't called trappings for nothing.

We are all trapped, the comfort is smothering.

Take it from me, the road out is straight.

Follow it out, discover your fate.


You know what you want,

You've known all along.

Stop pretending to be weak,

Stop pretending they're strong.


You work so hard to have it all

You look so high, when it is so small.

You want easy, look somewhere else.

You want boring? Boring can go to hell.