Steve the mortician’s on a secret mission to learn the position of my fishing hole. He’s got a camera with a high powered lens attachments & photographs me wherever I go He collects a check from the bakery. They want him to watch me. They’re the ones that want to know. No no no! They should just forget it. They’re not gonna find it. I filled in the fishing hole years ago. I got a go-go dancer who gives me the answers. She lives in my left ear She keeps the place tidy. We communicate nightly. She’s lived in there for years She pays close attention and she makes sure to mention the things that I don’t hear. She’s the one who pointed out, without doubt, her doubts about Steve and his evil peers What do you do when the world’s out to get you? When you can’t trust no one, who do you talk to? Who do you even begin to befriend when you feel like you can see the end? You got to get it, but you can’t let it get to you In the corner store they had me cornered. It looked like it was the end Morticians and bakers, chefs and undertakers were slowly closing in With excitement and fear I tugged at my left ear and I whispered good bye to my friend Then I threw a match on the magazine rack, ducked and covered up my head Had I known that it wouldn’t have blown up the store I wouldn’t have even tried I didn’t want those in the action to have the satisfaction of living while I died There was enough smoke to make me to choke and my consciousness started to slide Then the fire brigade came to my aid and escorted me to my ride
Posted on: Sun, 04 Jan 2015 01:06:15 +0000
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