yellowpigs.net

The Pink (or, Making Fun of Coffee House Poetry)

November 8, 1996

for KF

 
The pink moon is fallen down,
And she speaks to me
of cryptic coffee,
And I step on her thinking,
"this sucks."

this ceiling looks remarkably like our own

The blue sun is fallen down,
And we still revolve around it.
"one of us has got to stay sane," she says.
And I tell her, "Well, it's too late for that now."

this ceiling looks remarkably like our own

this ceiling is our own

The orange planet is fallen down,
And no one seems to care,
"I involve a profound lack of thought," he says.
And the cornflake is murdered brutally in his sleep.
And no one seems to care.

this ceiling looks remarkably like our own

this ceiling is our own

this ceiling isn't our own

The stars still glow. The stars still glow.
They seem to be upside down. We seem to be upside down.
The stars still glow. The stars still glow.

this ceiling looks remarkably like our own

this ceiling is our own

this ceiling isn't our own

you stoned moron

The light has faded, faded, faded. The light is gone
And we are blind.

this ceiling looks remarkably like our own

sick morons, sick morons, we pretend to learn
We are blind.