september '75 i was 47 inches high,
my mom said
Fred Jones was worn out
From caring for his often
Screaming and
She plays, 'Wipeout' on the drums
The squirrels and the birds
All is quiet his tired eyes see figures jotted down
And
Leaf by leaf and page by page
Throw this book away
All
So you wanted to take a break
Slow it down some
Everyone gather 'round now, sing us a song
Just in case
Do you not hear me anymore?
I know it's not your