ALL I EVER DO
All I ever do, at the slightest
provocation, is make myself
more work. There's nothing
that comes from it really. The
goons in this town ride side-saddle
on beers and TV's, so what can
I ever expect of that? A bunch
of gay fiddles coming in at a
breakneck speed to take over the
Arts & Cultural Bureau of Prisons;
running musicales and sing-alongs
for matrons in neck braces just now
learning the songs. Wiry old guys
pressing the flesh. They figure the
best thing they ever did was close
down the library to give their elbows
some room. The little-man commander
rides his fire-house space-ship through
all the gloom and doom, while I try
collecting signatures to send a church
group to the moon. Send money, not
smiles, for that does me no good.
All I ever do is make me more work.
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