My name?
It really has no rhyme,
no reason to tell of.
A foursquare
blending of musical
storytelling, and drunken
rants delivered on a street corner
at four AM.
Come home Odysseus,
come home and play Rachmaninoff's
Piano Concerto #5 on an old Hammond
Organ, while the mice look on in
wonder.
You there!
Yeah you, half a world away!
Do you know what my name is?
Do you even care?
I make mud pies with Redi-Mix Qwik-Crete
and serve them with Cool Whip,
Fat-free of course,
Damn!
Damn!
Damn!
I have forgotten again!
Cannot seem to tap dance and pick my nose
at the same time anymore.
We live in a cream colored garden,
over by the old Baltimore & Ohio tracks,
next to Paradise.
C'mon over.
No admission fee.
We shall gather at the stream,
and sing loudly until the
sheep come out and the
moon is fast asleep in the
your eyes.
My name?
Oh yeah..
It just doesn't matter.
The dogs have all come on roller skates,
and I have to go now,
before they find me,
alone on this beach
burning my memories in a rusty
old metal drum.
