I'm all out of dreams
they are the same reruns night after night
like some lame cosmic cable channel
Lucy stuffing her mouth with chocolates
Barney fumbling to put his one bullet in the gun
my tubes and transistors have reached their max
I guess the creative juices have only so many years
of bouncing around in your dna
until one day they meet again at the end of the strand
then your ability to decipher turns to mush
Katy Perry songs start sounding good
and politicians make sense
I spend 15 minutes choosing toilet paper at Walmart
so get a final glimpse of the poet that once was
before he begins crying at Hallmark cards