Listening to Jimmy Buffet
while relaxing on the roof,
she says “I swear I could jump right off it,
because I believe that I am bulletproof.”
This prompts a needed conversation
about theoreticals and physics,
based on her lack of self preservation
soon it will be her grave I visit.

You turn pebbles into rocks
and you make roads into sidewalks,
while both are wrong I could take them on
but you are like the chains to my locks.

I was stumbling through the darkened hall
leaning up for support against the the wall,
And found myself in a dusty bathroom stall,
advertising numbers of some bird I heard I should call.
Give a penny for your thoughts,
I’m saving up for nothing good.
I beg “give it to me straight, doc”
as any good doctor should.

You turn pebbles into rocks
and you make roads into sidewalks,
and in my mind, how easily I find
a thick outline that’s drawn in chalk.

What a bone I’ve got to pick
too bad it’s chipped and it’s been ground.
I hope this situation doesn’t stick;
but it’s past it’s welcome stuck around.
And I’m greeted like an answering machine,
except no has any answers left for me.
It’s all just driven me right up the walls,
I keep saying “you’re killin’ me, smalls.”