All our reasoning ends in surrender to feeling.
- Blaise Pascal
As it slides across the frame each morning,
While I am still asleep, snoaring
It sure does get my thoughts bowling,
as I toss around in the bed moaning,
swearing at, what, of late, has become,
My window to the world.
Fowls have got food to gather
Yet another day for mutts to fight the weather
cabbies readying to tain their patrons
The teacher readying to play the matron
The milkman, the guard, even the garbage guy
are kings when balancing the lemon on their spoon.
Why me, just me, did you single out O stupid fireball,
to burn through on thy wheel of fortune?
Ain't there a code of misconduct you ought to say?
Ain't there a game to play afore your prey?
Is that how plain you get to decide my destiny?
Shouldn't your ways be the cause for my mutiny?
Questions fly around in disarray - questions absurd,
as I finaly sit up and look out to the horizon,
far and out, through my, window to the world...
Listening to: Let's Make a Night, Bryan Adams, The Best Of Me