Crush me down
|
An aluminum can
|
Poke me with a fork and half baked yam
|
Toss me in the frying pan
|
I would never bite the hand
|
If I could be sure the hand that feeds me
|
Feeding frenzy on prescription words
|
Swallowing the silence that returns
|
Falling in footsteps petrified by time
|
Under madness are familiar faces
|
And you are just a semblance of before
|
Following the dust and calling it more
|
These are the seeds
|
That beseech the leaves for cover
|
Hiking canyons where people have fallen
|
These are places where some learn to fly
|
Breaking escaping molds that are growing
|
Stepping over cutting off the ties
|
|
-----------------
|
Aluminum Can
|
| The Ditty Bops |
