Dix Hills

Water tower mocking teal
as stilleto's cracked the heel
and on a bus that's red not white
horror from mosquito bites
and in the halls with their thin skirts
the ninth grade whore "innocently" flirts
and a sixth grader some where juts out her chest
Dix Hills, made for the best.

In a house set in for pay
the governments threats to seize away
a nanny called on every hour
Uggs jerked on in carbon power
cars smoking up the dead gray air
an eight year old tugs back her hair
and on goes Hannah Montana's wig
Counting calories so she won't get big,

And they trample down with their croc's
sweat engulfed soles from negligent socks
calling out slang words that fuck with your ears
"Emo bitch!" they don't question what they hear,

and the parents either jump on back
or on the outcasts to attack,
Have a drink, Have a hit
You're only a teenager, try smiling a bit!
And sure there's that dead feeling in oblate halls
The vocabulary of some even to celebrity's appal
apple bottom jeans and gleaming tang tops
Plastic girls drink jello shots,
jeans hanging down to the mid of their thighs-
Dix Hills majority of immature guys
Security guards dock the doors
Cigarette ashes on all two floors
Graffiti on an oak dead wall
Just beyond yelling in the hall

Then there's us what you come to see,
The circus attraction to be who we be
Take on the gobstoppers and vertical balls
Laughing it off when our skin really crawls
Car doors throw open to scream in our face
"You whores!" rolled away to ensue not a chase,
Take the same bus and take the same route
No bow tux injection satisfied to pout
Maybe a piercing, layer of black
a tattoo to run along a spinal track
Scare the Abercrombie mobs in September,
In the end who will they really remember?

When I get home they're cutting down trees
there branches forlorn like nobody sees
and the sky glazes over a tempting bright blue
unheard over the construction crew
going back to homes that are all the same
structure and columns, yelling and blame
The house might be full but the people went away
Survived an abortion now to Ichtus we pray.

Simon says that blonde is in
and falling in pin by pin
scattered on a tile floor
even with cash these people are poor
and some of them made it only to die
to gaze up in the sky before immaculate sigh
We bury the people in the graves by the school
Where the elementary schoolers learn what it is to be cool
When they walk in their parents are impressed
Because it's Dix Hills, made for the best.