Sometime I lose my mind to find myself
I might feel better than I appear
I might sing worse than I gargle
I might wear pink lemonade with sandles
you should pull me near
I have an odd way of thinking
you might think that is queer
if you keep wiggling that finger at me
I might lend you my ear
Wax my affections
rub the windows clear
I have family in washington
but they usually dont care.
you rent the tuxedo
and I’ll drive the cab
dont ask me for directions
you cant get there from here
I strike the nail into the monolith
cursed to pay rent to the streets
I’m not a randy American
I cant sing hail to the chief
you dont want to much
something to believe in
I want compassion with sleeves
yeah
giving out free cheese on
every third Wednesday
screw the damn charity hacks,
I’m living with this disease
I want a prize in every package
trails of smoke flying near to the sun
tie up my troubles in a zipper sack
savin’ up nickels for a rope or a gun
HJM
C 2005