There really ought to be a law
there ought to be an army
to keep me close to what I love,
guns raised 'til I've given enough
and not this petty stuff
but the real goods that I hoard
all the lovely lines I've stored
at the bottom of my body.
There really ought to be a room
there ought to hospital wing somewhere
where they can open up my brain
and pull out each refrain,
no love is free from pain,
but I'm too scared to sing unless
there's something to get off my chest
or there's really no one there.
There really ought to be an end
there ought to be a grand fateful finale
when each human, animal and plant
gets an award and million dollar grant
to tackle whatever task's at hand,
but our lives' work goes undone,
and even after all the fun
we just end up sleeping in the alley.
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