Every dog every scrap of doggerel
all the pathetic issue of
this stumble through the foggerel
I could think straight if they’d
just stop barking
I could sleep if my
brain would stop remarking
on how none of it seems to hang together
on how unlikely that it seems I’ll weather
whatever the hell you call this stage
with any shred of belief intact
that it’ll ever be the rage
Anywhere for any reason
Despite the parable that for
every dog there is a season
And it’s a pity that I got to
sleep in this bed
But I can’t make nothing
but what seeps out of my head
What is the song of the day?
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