Give me the paycheck give me the pocketbook
Honey bun honey bun
Let me marry you to the tree
So you can buy it some friends
Let me pay my own bills with your money it’s not
Confusing I’m not jumping the gun we’ve
Just got
A lot of bills to settle
Way of late makes me think there might be too many twists/turns at the roundabout
Too many ritzy beamers at the parking garage
Well Bezos
Well Mr. Burger Flipper
You are so heroic
You are so the same
You are so different
Inside we are all made of meat
So if cannibalism hits
I’d put my lot in with the burger flipper
Then there are pots of hot shit they say I don’t see anything
But I guess I’m not alone there are that many hypocrits
I don’t hold on to friends I meet online and certainly
We only discuss art, not change
But I wonder
How one can be devoid of the other…?