joy, joy, happy,
a pink dog, crappy,
let me know for once,
im sick of standing alone,
lying in bed, staring at the phone,
hearing the constant noise rushing through my head,
music, talking, strangers mocking things said,
it consumes me,
it is me,
but we've run out of paper,
that which sticks to poles,
and holds men to their oathes,
operation scam a citation,
those which the civilians loathe,
personal gain, not the good of the nation,
where's the flamin' remote,
someone change the station,
enough of bullshitting pollies,
like babies and their lollies...
January, 2004
Peet.