At last, at last, at last!

I have found it

A dissecting table

That has upon it

An umbrella and a typewriter

And some ink stains

That have dried upon

A tongue

Thank you Isidore

Have you ever been on a carousel and
forgotten about the spinning?
Same scenery over and over,
but your brain hardly even notices.
You just keep going.
Past the same faces and same places
and all the same feeling.
But you just keep going because it hasn't
stopped yet, you haven't gotten your
twenty-five cents worth of repetition.
And I've been chained to this carousel for so long,
the shackles are starting to look like jewelry.
When the sun sets and when they turn the lights on it is
no longer blinding. I'm used to the beauty.
All I want is to get off. I want to travel deep
into the woods. I see the trees I pass by over and over.
All I want is to get lost in them. I want something new.
But I know,
I know,
I know,
That they may be trees.
But it will be tree after tree after tree.
And I'll just find myself chained to another
carousel.

I'm sick of you.
I though you should know that.
By the way I think you knew that already.
Those charlatans and two faced fellows,
hypocrites and raconteurs, I think we deserve a better kind of people,
Your the vile ugliness that wears its artifice with its pride.
Those who work hard, day and night
those noble people who wear their lives out trying to make
a buck to live on. We deserve better.
I'm sick of you, and you know who you are.
All of you who wear those fake smiles, perhaps to hide
the ugliness that lies beneath.

We made our bed in the spring green grass
Like two deer, innocent, when they sleep,
Many years have passed, love has fled,
And the gentle forest does have left.