The neighborhood madman is getting serious
He has confessed to everything.
Though I exit along the scenic route
I promise to defend the faith.
Someone I thought I knew is looking for answers
I’m almost certain of it.
He is rather single-minded
He rose from the grave
And has no name.
He keeps rewriting history
And could be someone else
See how everything has changed
Now that we have all the information.
Surely religious overtones are being beamed at us from Mars?
Only lonely people
Have hope for the future
And hope grows like a wild daisy in my soul.
The construction workers
Lurking in dark alleys
Obviously can read your mind
But they are older now
And have formed a committee
You offer to demonstrate
That you really don’t have a soul to claim
As the rainbow stretches above us
It is clear,
Dark clouds are part of the pleasure
And as it begins to rain
I help you cut your wrists
Surely there is meaning in the shed blood.
You don’t want to think about
The computer experts
They hold the mysteries in their hands
They may have chauffeurs
But have you noticed how badly dressed they are?
It is possible to write poems for a prince.
Look in the mirror,
Or just file another complaint.
I’d like you to see my scars
It’s time we shared everything
As the neighbours come for tea
We will console ourselves with chocolate
And while old poets die alone
I cannot take you with me.
Hardly Gnome © 2002