just do

The bums got talent

& that is the hardest part

he’s crying in his soup now

can’t get nothing done

& I’m tired of saying just do man

just fucking do

& he says what

which kills even more

just scratch

put pen to paper

oil to canvas

paint the garage

for all I care

just do

just get off my couch

with this I’m lost in the world schtick

I don’t want to get angry

don’t even want to be giving advice

but it kills to see pain

where there don’t need to be none

certainly the wails are not needed

on this voyage

we’ve all been there

any scratcher on paper

dauber of pigment on blank

axeman without a gig

who has lost the point

we do this because we must

the audience is not part of the creation

(if it is, Hallmark are always looking)

I need him out of here

the down could be infectious

& I got words to row

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