I am human. A person.
That simple fact, a reason,
To be included in my inventory.
It’s a necessary part of my story.

I admit I childishly cheated as a kid
Of course, I lied about what I did.
I stole cigarettes from my aunts,
Smoked the instant I had the chance.

Naturally, there was *** to be had
And though called sinful, I was glad
To be among the very lucky few
Who didn’t wonder about it. We knew.

School over, I tried to avoid the draft
By enlisting in the air force. Daft.
That was in the days during the calm
When very few of us knew of Vietnam.

My feet were flat, somehow or another.
Asked if I'd drafted, “Maybe your mother!”
He said she would be called rather than I.
I’d never make a march fully packed, goodbye.

So, I started into living my life, aimlessly
Content to dodge the service blamelessly.
Rather than go to college, discouraged by Dad,
I made the best with the talents I already had.

I worked in clerical jobs, and organizing files
And grew bored with that after a long while.
I sang in nightclubs and in little theater
But never got my star ambitions together.

So, I learned to smoke *** and crash
In the pads of friends when out of cash.
I’d wash their dishes, and cook good food
And even sleep with them when in the mood.

I walked some picket lines and protested
And when evil laws got passed, contested.
I carried signs and worked odd jobs around;
Did casual income accrual that could be found.

I worked for years at a company for bucks,
Thinking permanent salary changes luck,
And it did because I finally bought a home
And stopped being a hippie on the roam.

I loved and lusted with the constant line
Of **** available hotties I could find
People who had time for a bit of fun.
And by then, I was the perfect one.

All this means, I had a normal acumen
For living life and being a human.
I make no apologies here, instead
Like a pony, I let myself have my head.

I want to sing songs of peace
But Congress broke its leash
And some nasty snarling curses
With their eyes on the purses
Of a nation of slothful dummies,
Grafters, liars and rummies
Who either had some con game brewing
Or had no idea what they were doing.

This is the story being written now.
Ask any Republican to show you how
Reagan took away people’s rights
And they give them up without a fight.
If you just paint lies with the USA brush
And the fools bow down in a big rush
To let movie stars and corporate thieves
Tell more lies for the dunces to believe.

It’s a sad story, almost Dickensian
In which America’s men and women
Keep thinking we can stop the madness
And end this national reign of sadness
Begun with Reagan and running until now.
And expecting the GOP to show them how.
The GOP subjects them to more slapping.
The fools don’t see, relief will not happen.

It hurts the soul to see this horrific fate
Threatens to take down our fine old state.
“We need no foreign enemies,” some cried.
“Our downfall is coming from deep inside.”
Still some stupid voters with little sense
Keep pointing to Chump and to Pence.
There are still a few human rights to burn
By a voting block that never really learns.

Yankee Doodle used to speak
Of bravery and freedom
But now most of that is gone
And we are sure to miss them.
Once we stood for righteousness
And peace around the clock.
Now that door is all closed up
And no one dares to knock.

Yankee Doodle lost his mind
And took the country with him.
Now the hardest thing to find
Is any D.C. wisdom.

Yankee doodle we begin
To hide our heads in shame.
Certain politicians here
Have sullied our good name.
We’ve become a people who
Invade and conquer other lands,
Leave them dying in their streets
By our American hands.

Yankee Doodle used to speak
Of bravery and freedom
But now most of that is gone
And we are sure to miss them.

Yankee Doodle it takes years
And decades just to clear up
All the damage greed has done
And even more to cheer up.
Oust and jail these awful men,
Bad thoughts in their noodles.
Let them sit in prison cells
With years to yank their doodles.

I am trying, and have been for years
To live longer than my childhood fears.
I am told it is not reasonable to moan
After the decades have come and gone
Between a child’s burned skin
And the adult body I am living in.
It always confused me as to why
Adults think a hurt child mustn’t cry.

Maybe the abuse they got as kids
Told them all crying must be hid
Away in some secret closet of shame.
Well, this is real life; not the same.
The real world doesn’t play by rules
Written by a bunch of sadistic fools.
Honor thy mother and father doesn’t work
If your parents are homicidal jerks.

A woman I worked with once went wild,
Screamed, “No mother would hurt their child”.
It was a stupid thing for her to posit,
But, she never saw bodies in closets.
She never experienced middle class kids
That looked like third world children did
From having nothing to eat but dirt.
It’s impossible to excuse that kind of hurt.

Such childhood horror doesn’t just go away;
This lack of hope to expect a better day.
That child usually grows up with no trust.
Something strong inside of them went bust.
They live their lives grabbing what they can
As if they never grew to be an adult man
Or woman that believes people are kind.
Sometimes it's because their peers are blind.

They don’t see the support mustn’t stop
Because someone kind soul has called a cop
And busted evil evil people who hurt children.
The fear and distrust stays; they’re human.
These are people with something basic broken
And saying “poor kid” can be just a token,
When what is needed is for them to share
With people around, every day, that care.

Walk right through
The handy open door.
It should be obvious to you
What the thing is for.
There may be no mat
Saying ‘welcome’ on the floor
But that is fine piece of
Symbolism to explore.

You can stand and knock
And be exceedingly polite
Or walk in and say hello.
That would be all right.
There is a liberal here
So there won’t be a fight
If you can also stand
To stare into the light.

The light is the glow
Truth casts on a lie.
If you can’t stand that
Then, you might say goodbye
And find another door
With some pleasing soul
Who will gladly take on
A much more passive role.

So, through this open door
We’ll talk about a good cause,
But, cheers for inequality
Won’t be met with applause.
How to make the world better
We are willing to fully explore
How to find more ‘yes men’
For you, this is the wrong door.

You’re my now and then lover
And I never know just when
You’re going to go away
And if you’re coming back again.
I know these are the rules
We are supposed to both play
But I don’t know anyone else
Who likes to do things this way.

You said your spirit is free
And I understood it to be
Something you wanted to have
For both you and me.
But I’m not that kind of person
And I told you from the start.
This go and come relationship
Just serves to break my heart.

At the start I made excuses
Just for the sake of going steady
But too much time has passed
And I discovered I’m not ready.
And maybe I will never change
And never quite turn out to be
The kind of person you need,
A kindred soul, no ties and free.

So, with my soul crying out loud
Like the romantic child I seem to be
I have to say goodbye to you
And let your body and spirit run free.
I may never understand this thing
That won’t ever let you settle down;
That lets you love me deeply
But constantly go and fool around.

So, I will have to let you go
And become a hot memory;
One that I will keep in my heart
That will always mean a lot to me.
I must accept that for a while
I chose you and you chose me.
And that you believe in a love
That’s all about freedom, but sadly
It’s was not about me.
And never can be.
So go and be free.

Our wedding license was
Just a promissory note;
A thing a compulsive
Liar once wrote.
Something Billy Jack
Once said, in short,
"Written so you could
Get out of it in court."

I find myself saying
When it's all said and done
"What  are you, anyway,
A secret republican?"
I thought it was just political
But, you devious little cuss,
Your sidewinding ways
Have slopped over into us.

A one-sided marriage
Is what we have now.
I put up with it all this time
But please don't ask me how.
It has been rather like you
Don't know what marriage is for
So write this down someplace:
I'm not gonna take it anymore.

One person by himself
Simply cannot make a pair.
Hey saddest thing of all
Is I doubt did you will care.
A month or two from now
Or maybe further on
You might look up and discover
That half your team is gone.