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clouddead - and all you can do is laugh. (1) lyrics
[why?]
wednesday’s dirty blood clot
h–rds of leaves wear 3-d gl-sses
to whisper the wind’s plea to accept an emptied room
[doseone]
backtalk, the bethlehem of patios points backwards
footprints at the stagehand puppets friendly lament
[why?]
this is a no choking zone
[doseone]
hypocrites in a china cabinet
[why?]
an exit bound conga line
[doseone]
a busy junk yard
[why?]
it’s mcdonalds versus
a handful of dry seamonkeys
awaiting the wet sponge
face smack domino
vampire infection, mark
[doseone]
a tub of ‘spensive people serum
two inner-tubes thick
attracts cerebus from southern ohio, girl
[why?]
some like it hot
[doseone]
sh-tting one’s self
scared
back onto the swing set
tastefully terrible caricature of “construction man”
back and forth… back and forth
saving myself on one day, (excuse me)
tarred and feathered for life on the next
[why?]
is it built brick on brick
or the pages of poems
bound by the school house thread?
wrap it all up in a paper towel
until the bottom rips out
and the football’s fumble
should the rules by which a desert cactus lives
be adopted by the sycamore as well?
[doseone and why?]
the cloud is dead, the fog has cleared
the sun is peaking through “a happy little tree.”
bob ross?
yes
he’s underground
way underground
herbert hoover, he’s underground
stupid underground
l.b.j. is underground
super underground
grover cleveland, he’s underground
m-ss underground
william howard taft is underground
straight underground
zach taylor, you know he’s underground
crazy underground
calvin coolidge is underground
he’s h-lla underground
even big g.w
yeah you know he’s underground
deep down
[sample]
it is funny how people do all kinds of things
most of it’s just a lot of bullsh-t
you know what?
90% of the things i’ve done in my life ain’t as important as you sweeping that floor
or sitting there eating your sandwich
you know why?
[doseone]
“you can’t look cool
running across the street”
and bottle broke
and the soap was left sink side
or the bartenders never pay attention
show and tell
with a gag blindfold
wrapped around the entire congregation
constraints
“put another dime in the juke-box baby.”
pocket full of lightning wads
and cat calls gush
like, i’ve never died from thirst
while preaching up the wrong tree
or slinking through the fence
through the posts
because you can fit
42… 71… and ø
ladies and gentleman
it’s been a pleasure
[doseone and why]
my
light
bulb’s
gone
grey
something
something
most
changed (improved)
since
stuffing
[why?]
a leaf in it’s twilight looks a million bucks
like hot pink paint you couldn’t buy before synthetics
to sit under the first autumn tree in the park
and watch a tee-ball practice just before dark
sunset is an all day process (123)
here’s the meat:
i can’t count 40 fat women in spandex
power walking circles around me
as i stare at a deserted baseball field
writing a rap in red pen on the back
of a printed e-mail folded twice
hot dog!
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