Call It Trashing

Something react with a shake and a bang to resurrect a dead beat,
rhythm of a slant and a pose of chivalry that’s far front its best,
so over-rated, so bits and pieces, accelerated, and so deceiving.
Mark it up with the made up, make it up on the side,
drag through shoulders to the wheel of alluring and baited lies.
Wait, it’s all sounding the same.
Rehashed beats and leak downs,
surround and take the diversity away and make it all feel stale and vacant.
Wait, it’s all sounding the same.
It’s all charades and shadows
Call it trashing