I have run the gamut of feeling

I have nothing left

I am emotionally void

bereft

I play my part

the world a stage

concealing my despair

my rage

I long for life’s sweet end

my one consolation

I revel in rejection

isolation

I purge the very things

that I consume

my destiny

will be my doom

Everything now is ashes to ashes,
dust to dust,
pedal to metal,
shine to rust.

Sometimes it’s fine,
sometimes it’s nuts,
stabbing sunshine,
oh baby, it cuts.

Do what you have to do,
see the metal? ( Metal )
it shines on my chest.
Sticks out like bravery (ooh wah);
was what we did best?

Mission accomplished
that was the call
come see my waterboard
We’ll have a ball

Sometimes it’s fine,
sometimes a curse,
Mom sent me Kevlar,
oh baby, it’s worse.

Do what you have to do,
see the metal? ( Metal )
it shines on my chest.
Sticks out like bravery (ooh wah);
was what we did best?

As performed by Surplus Population

©2009 John Gifford for independent together studios

posted with permission of the author

Dear Kingsley,

I was ironing my slacks earlier (LOLLZ, WUWT-maid suing for harrassment) when an astonishing bit of inspiration struck. I bought a house out on the Camans some odd years ago and have yet to visit it!

Pack your finest warbler glasses and we simply must head out there this instant. I sent a wire to my driver this morning. I said, “Laurence, kick the dust off the Rolls!” Clever.

Well, old boy, I must shove off. There is a glass of Glenliver with my named embossed upon it.

Send word: a yay or nay will suffice.

Best in Show,

Vic