Dead Mans Burrow
the little man, in the brown paper bag, was lying down in the street.he was silently listening to the silent beats of the silent songs of the concrete.
I said to the man, in the brown paper bag, I said hello sir how do you do?
he turned his crooked head inside the paper bag and whispered a silent and soundless moo.
and something was wrong, and the songs were gone, as flat as a dead swallows chirrup.
I grew a little bolder and told him sir you are causing a major stirrup.
inside his paper bag, the man grew quiet, and silent sounds of jack I heard.
he offered me a hand a tiny little hand with quaaludes, silence, and sorrow.
by then I was angry, so silently angry, that tiny fumes trickled from my ears.
I told him good sir you need to silently move before the songs again I hear.
but he moved no more, and stayed forever lying, in the street of Dead Mans Burrow.
I could remember no more I could remember no less than a silent mans regret of the morrow.
Words by method behind madness
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Written on 2010-01-30 at 18:01
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