Hey, Hey: Where Do You Go? What Do You Do? What Do You Say? What Do You Know?

Not any of that… no, no…

           Not dirty dances

           Nor dust bowls

           Nor downward spirals

Can’t see the wood for the trees lounge

Hiding behind a rock

We take a rest

We take note

We take off our clothes

We take off a year or so

From putdowns to breakdowns

To just one good old hand me down

Now we can make sonic waves

With boom tubes found on

Grassy knolls

                 So Metron can get back into the Black Hole

Depression: onomatopoeic

                  So it sounds like I’ll be drenched in black sweat for a while

                  Now I understand a buoy is a buoy

                                        Whether it is wrapped

                  In weighted gold or disposable tinfoil

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