5h
I await, faithful poets
with upturned face
for a little debris
from outer space
to fall and land
in just the right place
about noon this coming Monday;
please pray, faithful poets
along with me
for this unlikely event
because it really could be;
we’d be shocked for sure
but secretly,
our mourning hearts
would be full of glee;
(now sing the chorus along with me)
Space debris, don’t fall on me,
I’m really not quite ready,
Oh, space debris, don’t fall on me,
I’m really not quite ready.
with upturned face
for a little debris
from outer space
to fall and land
in just the right place
about noon this coming Monday;
please pray, faithful poets
along with me
for this unlikely event
because it really could be;
we’d be shocked for sure
but secretly,
our mourning hearts
would be full of glee;
(now sing the chorus along with me)
Space debris, don’t fall on me,
I’m really not quite ready,
Oh, space debris, don’t fall on me,
I’m really not quite ready.
at long last, a follow-up song to a blues tune I wrote about twenty years ago: -ooo-eee, Lightnin’ Don’t You Strike Me Now (I just gotta get back to my baby, etc.)
