This train of thought has no first class coach.
Strictly second class with rain dirty windows...

Tourists will chatter and scatter among the...
Even though I'm here and not there...

Wrapped in your tender graces and
Tied up with laughter...

From the womb,
Curled up in a ball...

My guitar is out of sorts today
While I am out of tune...

When I'm lazy and
Can't face the day...

The Rhyme.
Sometimes a crime, that...

Summer and the Mosquito's are here.
The creeks are as dry as me...

She's my Marilyn.
Not his...

If the sun shines on the Righteous,
Why does it always seem to rain at funerals...

Fledgling waves massage and calm this weary...
Lapping, clapping,laughing...

In the closet with your skeletons and skirts,
Clandestinely 'Cage aux folles...