This little man
Will do all he can
To eat all his beans
And avoid his greens.
For him it is considered beneath
To keep clean his teeth.
There is little hope
Of owning a bar of soap.
To let an evening pass
He would roll in wet grass.
Then to get himself in gear
Knock back four pints of beer.
He has been told “elf”
Take a look at yourself
You have got yourself to blame
You have brought much shame.
You must go through a door
And find it in yourself to explore.
So it was that he became irritable
With the thought of eating a vegetable
He knew he was quite snappy
But what would make him happy?
Slow breathing in and out
Just made him want to shout
Who would want to embrace?
His ugly little face?
So he had a choice
Led by a comforting voice
Choose which door
He needs to explore.
Go through the door of red
Where one stayed in bed and just ate bread
Or the door painted green
He would get himself clean
Or go through the door marked blue
Find out what he is addicted to.
That thought was just plain crazy
He knew he was lazy.
He was the little man with a very short shelf
Plonked on a label branded a very lazy elf.

Don't call me Honey,
I'm not that sweet;
Don't call me Sugar,
I'm no beet;
Don't call me Dear,
I'm a ***** Buck;
You say: Let's make love,
I say: *Can't we...

I am an instrument with proud, inexcusable curves,
finished in a deep stain that shows my wear,
how I was loved—
the hands that have touched me.
It accentuates my grooves, my nicks.
It implies the things I've seen
and the music I've created.

I hang on the wall in the far left corner.
One of many walls in this room of a thousand others like me,
made to perform the very same tasks.

It's quiet here.
Echoes in our hollowed bodies,
amplified from the smallest sounds.
All of us, hiding away until we're found,
recognized—and stroked and strummed.
Poor and pitted, waiting
for the completion of hands, and minds,
and unmatched understanding of how and when.

There is a hope, when the lights come up—
when the footsteps approach my wall.
Although he hasn't yet, the thought alone sustains me.
I can feel him
lift me off of my holds,
run his hands down my pronounced edges,
and tune me with precision
by his classically trained ear.
He twists and plucks,
as I contract and give and give again.

I only play beautifully for him.
I vibrate to hum
making notes that require
no accompaniment.
For a stretch of time, I have purpose.
My hollowness
becomes a haunt for untethered melodies.
He makes me something I cannot otherwise be.

The maestro,
the maestro and me.

A hundred million years ago in years
This planet ran a savage rage of fear
We were torn up by the dinosaur
Leopard lizards and much more
Oh, those times gone by
Still I have to wonder why
Oh, the times gone by
Still I wonder why

Vampires and dinosaurs
Vampires and dinosaurs
Why they ran so well I can't tell for
Vampires and dinosaurs

Found a lucky key chain
Must have been the rain
Where have we been again and again
Still turning around to the place we began

Vampires and dinosaurs
Vampires and dinosaurs
Can knock your face onto the floor
Vampires and dinosaurs

Well. what 'cha watchin' on T.V.
Didn't you know that it was me
Whenever you've got that certain smile
Yes, that's the Hollywood style
Yes, that's a Hollywood smile

with those

Vampires and dinosaurs
Vampires and dinosaurs
Why they ran so far I can't tell for
Vampires and dinosaurs

Vampires and dinosaurs
Vampires and dinosaurs

Love is a joke,
                                            
                    Life told

But no one was laughing

row, row your boat
- how rough may
be the lull to afloat!,

raw, raw this float!,
how dull the day
in falsetto note! -

bow not, flee the cote,
to the lake of fairy way
row, row your boat!

I always see forever in my angel's eyes
I believe that tomorrow for us never dies
I feel him here, a man so kind and wise
Yet everyday, his love is a great surprise

Never did I see that forever is true
A better tomorrow becomes bitter for you
Devotion is a lie, it's an illusion, too
A cruel fate until you fall through

Oh, an illusion for someone with hatred
Why I should listen to you who's outdated?
What I know is love is something that's sacred
I don't want now my time to be wasted

Ha! Hate just brings too much weight
Perhaps, love is an infatuation state
Temporary as it is, a passing moment to abate
Time is wasted into dreams that don't conflate

Why do you always tell me what you think?
Those things in your mind they always slink
Don't you see your limits, your own brink?
Can't you just let me find my heart's missing link?

I am just seeing reality, thinking out loud!
Reality is crowded as life is full of cloud
A prince without a crown is not allowed
A heart lost in the dream town is now cowed

I know you have so much words to say
You can turn me down all the way
But I will still stand and hold my love's bouquet
Hand in hand we will walk forever and a day

I have a little friend that lives
within my beard, she is my
morning wake up call as she
pecks and chirps in my ears.

People think it may be strange
to have a little bird in my beard,
but she never goes hungry, as she
cleans all the crumbs from
my breakfast, lunch and tea.

I have a smile each and everyday,
for when I look in to the mirror, I
see her in her nest beard, looking
back at me.

So if ever walking and see me talking
and chirping, know I am not as
crazy as I seem, I'm just chatting
to my friend who lives within my beard.