The Same Song~
The Same Song
The clothes they wear
but together all the same.
A Human League,
the beat of makeup and mirrors.
Steam from hairdryers
are still in their eyes as the ground glides under.
Disgruntled, with headphones
banging away on a striped sweater.
A pullover, jeans, and muddy shoes,
though a statement higher than just Levis.
A sweatshop with David Bowie
guiding the sewing machines
for American kids to show their outer love.
A drone and loop of the same cloth.
Fashion on a keyboard or turntable,
with Grum leading the war on cameltoe.
A statement only heard over a pin drop,
though crowded by no personality.
Everyone still walks, obviously to the same song.
If drum machines had souls,
and I believe they do, they probably got bored.
Through decades of supposed change,
they play the same beat
We all walk to it.
Speed up the tempo,
put on some guitar,
wear all the leather,
and everything on top can just be noise.
It’s still the same damn walk, the same damn beat.
It’s not cellphones,
or even the same genre rehashed for every generation,
but the fashion.
That magazine, TV,
and shopping network,
drivel walking all over our sense of being.
©Patrick Attaway 2012