PERFLECTITUDE
Whoever knows that one, like a
primitive oaf making up words,
will know just what to say back.
He's contagious now and without
any limits. Saws the limb out from
under that tree. So many go about
to seek the hidden words within that
word. It's a conundrum, Jimmy Jones,
and nothing more than that.
-
I saw you out with Mary Jane again,
and man that has got to stop. You two
don't fit, look awkward together, and
it's obvious she'd rather be someplace
else. I can send her a postcard from
Philly, and pretend I am there?
-
I lost my papers and I can't get no
relief. My betrayal now seems endless
At least there's you and her that I can
talk to; outside of that this iron army
is bound for Hell.
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