Pinoccio

I saw Pinocchio and he couldn't speak,
His face was tired and meek.
I offered him a drink and his knees got weak,
He was suspiciously cogent as he passed by me.

I said, " Hey, whats wrong?"
He said, " Nothing-- nothing at all."
And he kept walking toward the door,
As my head spun into the floor.

He went inside and saw Geppetto,
He told him I was drunk and real mellow.
And mentioned it was bad for him,
To be around guys like me.

"I want to be a real boy," he said,
"Not a wooden toy."
"I would really like to experience joy,"
"And to feel what it means to be coy."

Geppetto, he can't help at all,
He points to the door and says " good bye",
And whistles a song hes always known, to let the time pass by.
Pinocchio is out now, looking at the sky,
And with a somber face, he looks me in the eye.
I say nothing and he wonders why.

" I think I know what it feels like to be a real boy," he said,
"Its not as nice as I thought to employ."
"Maybe ill sit here and be a toy,
And do what everyone wants me to avoid".