Good Morning, Passport
Good morning, passport, howdy?
(Silence)
How are you doing, paper?
(No reply)
They say you’re shooting missiles
Out of your pages, is that true?
(No reply)
And some of missiles fall into
The brains of those who care
And there’s a missiles garden
Growing inside their heads
How could you let that happen?
Get down here, answer me
( No reply)
So no reply, that’s fine
In this case, you come under the jurisdiction
Of my judges, as I cannot be held responsible
For your antics, dear piece of paper
You’re an essential document, aren’t you?
A required field in every application
I couldn’t manage without you in this life
But the problem is that you’ve become rather costly
I’m being blamed for offences I didn’t commit
Solely because of my passport
As if I’d chosen my passport even before I was born
They’re very cunning judges
They can’t imagine themselves in my shoes
Yet they act as though they know
How they themselves would act if they were in my place
In all its given entirety
But you’re not listening, little piece of paper
Well then, all I have to do
Is to wash my hands, feeling no need
To wear a toga and be full of grandeur
Just a little consolation I permit to myself
Judges flash knowing smiles, so my
Sardonic ha-ha seems accepted
So I’m putting you back, sweetie
On the Theodor Alexander case
It’s your favourite spot, isn’t it?
Sorry for bothering you
If you’re even capable of forgiveness.
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