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A shiny penny for my thoughts is twice the going rate
Little wheels keep spinning in my head, mental masturbate
To me my songs are quaint not queer, but I have no brand
So I sit and type away; an impoverished man!

Trite cliché that does insist, friends are all we need!
Friends are lovely sustenance but they me do not feed
Feed me my three squares a day, breakfast, dinner, lunch
If you question my ordination, I’ll give you such a punch

My leg I never have broken, on neither street nor stage
Silly little songs I write prove that I’m far more fool than sage
A bit of seasoning would be nice for my unleavened bread
But bread doesn’t grow for me, that’s what my accountant said

Not sure what he’s a counting there, two nickels I call mine?
But when the counting is complete I’m sure he’ll take his tithe
To rhyme, to rhyme, not reason, seems to be my fate
I’m hungry for new season where I ascend to third rate

Adam in paradise gave his rib for Eve
I’d gladly donate one of mine if it would help my songs succeed
A silly little man, with a twisted mind
Seems to be moniker, no sobriquet sublime

Melancholy little world, where I live alone
I’d long to open castle gates and let you share my throne
But I am just a jester here who gestures at my court
Don’t know to whom I bow down, nor to whom I should report

Is there no one there for me to hold and caress?
Why can’t I attract a mate? Surely some gal craves a mess?
Perhaps I’ll petition Yahweh, ask Him to do his thing
Promise I’ll be a good husband, and wear my brass nose ring

So she can lead me round by day and play with me at night
Even rough affection is so much sweeter than this blight
But who am I kidding? No one yearns for me
Cover me with puppies with a sign declaring “FREE!”

I will be Han Solo till my dying day
And in my flying Falcon with hairy Wookie I shall play
Dream of Leia’s luscious lips though she’d just kiss me like Luke
I’d settle for sisterly affectations so long as tongue does not rebuke

Guess it’s time to throw in the towel and cash in my chips
My mouth is hungry for a kiss from those loose lips that sink ships
Deep and heavy sighs breathe I all alone right here
If you think that you might love me, then won’t you call me, dear?

A shiny penny for my thoughts is twice the going rate
Little wheels keep spinning in my head, mental masturbate
To me my songs are quaint not queer, but I have no brand
So I sit and type away an impoverished man!

sad-clown

 

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