Much To Our Collective Chagrin the Can of Whoop-Ass Had Developed a Slow Leak Overnight

Investment Dr BW 02

Ease off the fun pedal, Charlie

The dawn and its Christ will rise again

So pour me a bloodshot

To chase your grandmother’s eggs benedict

 

Neither breakfast nor this road

Will go on forever so

Let’s not get there on an empty belly.

Shake some beads on that worry machine of yours

 

And fix the Say Hey Kid to your spokes.

Let the wind curse what’s left of the lion’s mane.

New, old, middle aged, mox nix,

I pulled the thorn from his paw just the same.

 

The violins are crumbling like cheap suits

Or salt water taffeta communion dresses.

Innies or outies are just two aspects of the void.

In space, no one can hear you dream.

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