[Poem Excerpt: Eli Arbor]
...came to Stanford and found there was noting for me
Except 8 other people who's after the same glory
'cause we been on the fringes waitin' for y'all to slip up
Late night eating binges been led fingers to stick up
In pursuit of being in we realized had to give up
'cause out of pursuit of being "in," being out's what we'd never live up
We are the strangers
We are the dreamers
We are the weird kids
The imaginations trapped inside bodies trying to escape and reshape the world around us
We are the family that didn't need each other until we found us
We are the rain shadow of the mountain that has no trees and thus no photographic promise
We are the side of the moon that never sees the light of the sun
We are destined to just be no one
This isn't for the slam poets
This isn't for the fixie-pushing hipsters in Williamsburg and San Francisco
This isn't for the beatniks
This isn't for the bongo players.
This is for the kids in cla** staring out the window
Waiting to hear their own voice on the wind, in the trees, spoken from towers on high
It's time to go outside
[Break:]
That one felt a lot better, what do you think?
Yeah, I'll just do the whole thing one more time
Just keep that take, but we'll record it again
Let me just proofread this sh**
No no, I just have misspellings in here
Alright...
[Poem Excerpt]
I was never in
I was never invited I was never in vogue
I was never in fashion, hella holes in my clothes
I was always outmatched, left out and out-cla**ed...
[fades out]