by Glen Sadley

Created on: February 25, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

Damn teenagers
Come into my restaurant
And run off all the real people
(Who actually exist)
Never having any money
Never buying from me

Damn teenagers
Just want to sit around
Laze up my couches
And talk their loud and
Incomprehensible chatter

Damn managers
Glare at us with that stare
Drenched in animosity
Their eyeballs so loaded
With the strain of hate
That they seem to melt
Down their face

Damn managers
Never seem to notice
That we are people too
That we have money to spend
If we were treated
With at least as much respect
As those five-year-olds get

Damn five-year-olds
Everyone screams
With their plastic cars
And their giggly voices
We are trying to conduct
Our places in society here
And you are just not
Falling into play

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