Common song, common verse,
Jingle here to jingle there,
New song replaces the old song replaces
The older, older, replace the old,
And where these constantly changing chimes
Spark giggling memories of recent past
Is where the weekend stories are told.

A pause for every mid-way season:
A pause taken in slutty vain.

Call to rights, call to place,
Pay for symbols to stay awake,
While shirts and shoes pile in names
On shaggy, scratchy, withered carpet stains;
Jack Daniels autographed the floor from nights before.

And all to stay with future plans today.
Past mirrors present for these poor, young whores,
Unwillingly sold into prostitution by their ηατμrε,
Age,
Unforgiving organs.

All until the day these captives of freedom will choose:

To be liberated from the liberation
or
To be forever stalked by the Grey Goose hiding in the pot-head plants.

Adam Saylor