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Poem

West coast, east coast 
This question is for you in the waist coat
What about us in the mid-west?
People like to boast 
Pork and beans and roast beef
And other simple stuff
Like dumplings and toast
All the things that perish with the eating
Sleeping through productive meetings

I know you think I'm tripping
But get a grip 
I'm also guilty. No kidding
You ask me how I know all this
And the answer is simple
I saw you sitting under the fig tree
Go figure, you are the whiz kid
But in a moment I'll clue you in

You say people look like trees walking
Singing twisted lyrics about feelings
You say you just want to make a killing
No hard feelings
It's all about the Benjamins
Images of bags filled with greenbacks 
But I doubt it, and I'll tell you about it
Some are drowning

Runaway notions about emotions
I see you loud and clear 
You'll have to know I'm not far but near
You keep on causing commotion
With your explosive concoctions
Contorting misdirected souls

She sang beautifully in the choir 
But is now hooked on synthetic fire
Unfettered thoughts and desires
I hope you feel my ire
Tooting horns and screeching tires
Choo-choo, there it goes
Iron centipede

Runaway train speeding across town
Stop the world I want to get on
Collection of lost souls chasing a lost cause
Moving fast, hurtling past, grabbing about
Hoping to get their name announced
Jostling for their name to appear somewhere
Stop the car I want to get on
Get me on the fast track, I'm going nowhere
Stop the train I want to get off

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