Sure, I’ll be a hipster –
If it’s something you sneer at, I’m in.
If jeering at hipsters is unwritten code,
If trending on trendies is mode à la mode,
Then dump on me, bro, let it all unload –
Hate me, cos you ain’t gonna win.
I might grow a beard cos I reckon you won’t like it,
And even if you like it, I’ll do it anyway.
I’ll sport my hair in dreadlocks, or maybe rock a pixie,
I’ll shop at House of Oxfam, and ride there on my fixie,
And call her Toots or Trixie,
Or sipping on my latte while I’m writing my screenplay.
You think it’s just a pose ?
Well, maybe, bro, it is. Who knows ?
And then, so what ?
No more a pose than all your hating –
Yours demeans while mine’s creating.
Am I just so smug and grating,
That this sniding’s all you got ?
Well, go ahead and take your shot
Belittle and demote this.
I guess I’m not that hard to spot –
In jelly crocs for all to see,
And vintage woollen socks, I’ll be –
So come on, bro, and hate on me…
I doubt I’ll even notice.