Thinking In Cliches Is Itself a Cliche

What have been sayin’ It's only Saturday Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche Father in the kitchen Eats his check away Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche Don’t you shake and shiver When the hounds of order bey? Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche God is dead, or in Toms River – Any dumb excuse to pray Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche Island people don't get ready Wherever there's tsunami They wait until that drawback gets all flushed But back to your studies Back to Bloom's Taxonomy And the camouflage of sophomore girls’ first blush It’s cartridge, pump and filter It’s the dose in the ashtray Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche All the post-its in your Rilke Will not my respect sway Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche Your hopeless, guileless, wretched pact of clay The family-brand is over – Say whatever you want but not “gay” Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche