When McCartney goes
The seas will boil
Everest will crumble
The crops will spoil
Immovable objects
Will get shunted aside
Unstoppable forces
Will have the brakes applied
When McCartney shuffles off
Every dog will cry
The tortoises
Will all pull in their heads/legs/tails and die
When McMartney joins the choir
The world will feel a chill
Sadness on Penny Lane
The fool has left the hill
When McCartney throws a six
There will be a global tremor
But take comfort in the fact
Ringo will live forever

fog dampens
the irritation
of a barking dog,
that's what I like
about fog

You can listen
to the news,
you can express
your views,
you can point your toes
when you dance,
but the future, my friend
will unroll like a scroll
and there won’t be
a thing there by chance.

There are things
that you hear,
there are things
that you fear,
there are demons
inhabiting dreams;
but events that unfold,
or so I’ve been told,
are not the results
of man’s schemes.

So retire your talk
and just go for a walk,
look up at the stars overhead,
and be thankful that you
have no claim on the view,
and then, laugh, be happy,
go to bed.