Do you have
A song in your head
That makes you wish
That you were dead.
I’ve got medicine
To make that song come unfurled.
“It’s The Final Countdown.”
You’re welcome,
-The World
Trees are nice. So are rocks,
But not so much big cities,
‘Cause they are full of people
Whose heads are full of ditties.
They sing all day despite themselves,
Albeit silently.
I cannot stand these catchy tunes
That I cannot hear or see.
And so I moved out to the woods
Are jingles don’t exist.
And now getting rid of the birds
Is on my to-do list.
Filed under Poems