I had sunken to a ***** laundry bag
Midway to Okinawa, Japan.
Between withering away and weathering my eyes,
The dim lights of a downtown pub
Kept me surprised,
I'd like to recompose an absurd childless song
Where they tell us to clap our hands
And shout hurrah,
I would like to recompose happy
And use satisfactory, naivety
Meticulous synonyms to replace an absolute
Drastic, silly if I may!
As I wait for my birthday countdown
And live for a lifespan of ninety,
The leaves of an old, cultural Norwegian hymn
Lala with something to begin,
In the light of the momentum that
I am cutting cake and waiting to die,
Happy seemed hardly worthy to express
The nativity, nomenclature or if so I must say,
The happiness of the world.