I Think He's Dead!

 

Look, I’ve been here a while,

But I haven’t seen him bat an eyelid,

He’s been hunched over by the jukebox for five hours now,

I found him bopping to Dancing in The Moonlight,

The tunes’ done now but he’s still there,

I think he’s dead!

 

Look, I know this fellow,

He’s accustomed to such eccentricities and buzz-killing sorrow,

I’ve seen him stare at an empty grave for a whole hour,

Heck, I even heard he has a garden of roses,

And he throws all his cats baby showers,

He’s a strange fellow,

Preferring the company of demons and spirits to that of actual people,

If you asked me,

He’s lost in some “spiritual trance,”

Talking to Yogi Bear or whatever thing these weird folk like going on about,

But,

I don’t think he’s dead!

 

Look, I know it’s strange but I think am right,

If a loner he is, why be drinking with folk in a tavern at night?

In his hand is a note, and a chain having keys,

His body is limp, with this chill; he’d have stirred,

I think I’ll try calling him,

Maybe see his response,

Because deep in my mind,

I really think he’s dead!

 

Look, try and save your breath,

I don’t think he’s dead,

And if by chance it is so,

Why would that be a concern?

Oddities never stood a chance in the world,

All this fellow could do was sit, piss, and mull over his flowers,

He kept repeating this one phrase, “There’s beauty in madness,”

Imagine the idiocy!

I think the world is bad enough with all these lunatics running around,

Lose one of them? Halleluja!

But,

I don’t think he’s really dead,

 

Look, I think I found what he was writing,

It is some sort of ode,

“Hush little Majorie,

It’s going to be over soon,

And the angels hummed a sweet harmony,

To the glowing beauty of the fading moon.”

@Job Kerry