in the theatre, breathing music
December 30th, 2005
we are always traveling
yes i admit, it's true
we have no idea what
events could be unraveling
as i send this poem to you.
we could be in alabama
with southern accents galore
or maybe in sunny florida
pass the chips, i want some more.
our old car rumbles on
i drink a gulp of coke
we pass a sign that says
welcome to new york
oh, gosh, i almost choke.
my sister laughs
my dad does too
mom pulls over
i'm feeling blue.
i need to stop she says
and gets out of the car
dad points to the black night sky
and we see a shootin' star.
i'm sick of traveling
however great it may be
cuz i know you are back
at home sitting and
waiting for me.
oh yes you are a dog
one who can't read
but heck it's my choice
and it seems that sending
postcards to you is a very
absolute need.
it's funny though, trusty pal
that when we get back, driving hard
i never see a single
solitary one of my
sent postcards.
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