Bills  Bills  Bills  Bills
Never a Sam or Clyde
I simply can’t get out of debt
No matter how I’ve tried.

Bills  Bill  Bills  Bills
They come in twos and threes.
I wish that I could get a loan
To help me pay for these.

My credit score is way too low;
It’s only six-o-five.
I know they’ll never loan the dough
That I need to survive.

I didn’t know which way to turn
Until I spoke to Frank
He kindly said he’d lend a hand -
And help me rob a bank.

We put disguises on my face
And he pulled out a gun
We got some money in our bag
And took off on the run.

But we didn’t get too far
The coppers had us nailed.
They hauled us up before a judge
And both of us were jailed.

The problem now has gone away
My room and board is free
I have no monthly bills to pay
So I’m the winner, don’t you see.
ljm

All I want was a shelter to feel comfortable with.
A warmth that you felt safe.
Trust for mutual understanding.
  And the pleasure you fully pledge to.  
  
    Seems like loving someone at this age makes us feel unsafe and unsecured, and mostly – at times, temporary.

Everything you and me, a preplanned destiny's game,
It started slowly, what seemed like everglowing flame,
A shattered dream with pieces ablazed
The dark night sky, the stars scattered
Like us, light distances apart.

I don't have sympathies
I feel fine if you fall
I trust that in time you will march back
Throw the dust off
And get back
In the life race
It is a place
Where no one is leading
And every track is dirt filled.

You can lie in Wyoming,
they don’t care in Arizona,
you can mislead them in Mississippi
but don’t mess with Georgia.

You thought us “hicks from the sticks”
but we were wise to your tricks,
we just recorded your words,
now you’ll get what you deserve.

Your threats and fraudulent incitements,
have earned you several indictments.
You came down with your whole freak show,
so they charged you under RICO.

Come back to Georgia, Mr. Trump,
it turns out you were the chump.
Because we’ve got lots of new prisons
and DAs with surly dispositions.

In Georgia we don’t mind high flyers
but man, we hate traitors and seditious liars.
While many, it seems, fell for your blusterous aura,
you ******* yourself good by messing with Georgia.
.
.

Ok, gimme me your best day, take your best shot at perfection.
Our minds take experiences and press them grape-like,
into the intoxicating liquor of memory.
The vivid ones linger - unaltered - like youthful Internet mistakes forever posted.
Someday to beckon us back, teasingly - like bright, neon signage.
.
Peter’s off again to job interview (second round, in Geneva), he was only here two days but something of him remained behind. Oh, fingerprints for sure - but memories too - like scattered Christmas wrappings - or a poem.

I don't believe in soul mates
What I do believe in
Is people that connect
On some deeper level
Immediately upon acquaintance
And not meaning you agree
On where to eat for dinner
But the connection where your heart
Seems to slip out
Of your rib cage
Because it's found a home
Outside of your chest.