This woo-woo machine
Makes the greatest
Of noises
So colorful musical notes
Come dancing down through
The air and land straight in my long
Brown hair
I close my eyes
And I’m on a holiday
I’m in my cabin
Eating vegetables and
Writing you letters about
Each mouthful
The old master painter
Sits in the corner
Working on his latest
While I’m on my knees
Under the wind chimes and
Saying my prayers…
My little opera for God
(He is the Father of Man after all)
This is wonderful
With my hero taking out the villain
As Mrs. O’Leary’s cow
Sleeps in an exhausted heap
In the barnyard on tie dye straw
And composing a lovely mixture of milk
In her belly
In great shape now,
I desire no Hawaii
No hot tin roofs of
Pure flavorless heat
This woo-woo machine
Is really making it
For me tonight
The surf is up
And I am all ready
Decked out in flower pedals and sandals
Ready to take
On the world
No comments:
Post a Comment