ABC

You feel this, You feel that— Aw jeez, You’re always feeling Some stupid drama of regret Regardless of anything real. In truth you’re only stringing words together To fill the time away from Jack and Jill; That might make sense, But it doesn’t really matter if you do. Are you lonesome, Are you blue, Can you stir a bumpkin stick in Elvis soup And boil it till it’s true? Politics, dread politics, rave on— Declare yourself for ABC, Protest that pensive weakling XYZ— It’s pretty much the same damn trip, Whether you puff up on the left or right Or shove it up your ass in fright, And beauty, dear beauty, There’s no chick that pleases or appeases you Like it used to do, No name or word that we applaud, There’s no bird notable for taking flight right now, No one to write the names down except for you and me. What good will it do, though, For you to carry those names around Like a leaden weight And me to carry you? See how low your flag is flying, Can you keep it from the dirt? Is there anyone of any moral stature or high feather here To keep fledglings in repair or from being hurt? rcs. Current draft: 3/18/2010 Created on 2/15/2010 11:48 AM