There’s a bin on the way home,
I wonder what’s inside.
A tired ocean? Remains of a dome?
Expired food? A bucket of fries?

I came closer to the smell of fish,
I open it, it was red, black and white.
Whatever I saw inside that day,
Made me scared for my life.

An eye, a liver, a lung, a tooth,
All of it inside this dark, heavy booth.
I closed the bin quickly, I wan away,
I guess I can call it a day…

Saying is one thing, doing is another,
A crooked spine for a lover.
Cut the canvas, impossible to mend,
A fallen soldier for a friend.

Yes, go on now! Add a stitch!
Each thread you pull begins to twitch!
Nowadays, words equal to a mace,
A Chelsea smile for an everyday face.

A tale for all, some died in vain,
I said it all, and I’ll say it again!
Open eyes, seeing red,
A man’s demise is his own bed.