Thin Ice

➡
Twilight was that Dawn Dish-washing Liquid blue
That horrid Koolade color that tastes like battery acid
And cold, colder than a well-diggers ass in February
And I was half stoned and well, somewhat lucid
The ice frosted on the window pane sparkled
like sequins on a gay disco dancing fairy
My greasy Mexican T.V. dinner sank like a stone
It’s only October but feels like it’s friggin’ January
My gut filled with Dos Equis beer and a bag of pork rinds
Recliner is painted in cheese doodle dust and catshit
Sitting in my easy chair in underwear but no one minds
Alone and cold here since Eunice went out to protest
Packed a bag, wanted to be a part of the damn 99 percent
She wants to change the world she said, slammin’ the door
Me I’m watchin’ springer then the Daily show, I’m content
Got my unemployment and a few under the table jobs
got porno and poker, huntin’ and fishin and beer
I’m what I am, and so’s all them wall street slobs
I give what I can to the salvation army and firemen’s ball
and wall street and corporations fund their charity’s too
Hell freezin’ over and the worlds gone totally mad
I’m halfway up shit creek paddling my own damned canoe
The ice is thin but I read the sign
If your goin’ under it’s no fault of mine
😀

3 Comments

  • di710smiles says:

    WoW 😯 😉 What a life What a write The ice is thin but I read the sign
    If your goin’ under it’s no fault of mine & that picture of you, too giggle :groovy: :entertained: :mrgreen: :love: :love:

  • Silver says:

    no where left to go but up…… :love:

  • GlennVadney says:

    Undertakers, hearse drivers, diggers of the hole
    Send the biodegradable empty container below.
    Just a bit of refuse, used up, without it’s soul
    Cover it up with sod, let some flowers grow
    We handle the remains, soon going to dust,
    Empty containers in an elaborate box of wood
    The folks will stand here, they somehow must
    The journey begins, but to the dead no good
    “They can’t taste your tears, hear the priests vespers”
    The diggers say with shovel scrapes and laughter
    Earning a wage by you, who say goodbye in whispers
    Then the diggers head off for football and beer right after

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