Photograph: ©Copyright 2007 by John-Ward Leighton
CALL THE DOCTOR
My belt is too tight
and my head ain't right
'cause all my dreams have taken flight
rapidly disappearing out of sight down that endless road
and I had given them up without a fight
or so I'm told.
The little blue man
digging for butts in the tray
out in smokers hell
as the pampered lady walked her dogs
to have my camera would have made my day
maybe yes, maybe no
but who can tell?.
J.J. on the soundtrack
and my drinking days keep coming back.
They weren't all bad
the days of the sauce
then I could fall in love
without thinking of the cost.
Was it the booze
that cost me my companions?
Or just plain bad luck and cussedness,
or something else I deliberately choose?
More questions than answers
but isn't that the sum of all our lives
sometimes you win
most times you lose.
I look over my shoulder
at the nudes on the walls
sitting at the computer without my shoes
hammering on the keyboard,
scratching my ass, thinking evil thoughts
and singing the blues.
The white chairs on the patio
all cleaned up and waiting for a bum.
Empty I guess they are really
a zero sum.
Standing on my balcony
looking down the street
at the hookers
chatting up the losers
who have to pay
to have their orgasm today.
Nowhere to run
and nowhere to hide.
Death is a bitching hard task master
and nobodies favourite son
just there to catch us in its relentless tide
after all our foolishness and fun.
Madness is always the determining factor
so don't just sit there stupidly grinning
call the doctor.