The Mean Streets of Oz
The world is spinning out of control
like a Kansas tornado. You cannot simply
return to bed pulling the covers over your head.
You could find yourself smack dab
in the middle of nowhere;
a stranger in town searching
for that yellow brick road.
Been there, done that, skid row,
thin as a scarecrow, lyin’ in the gutter
with a bottle of courage in a brown paper bag.
“Mister can you spare some change?” No?
Thanks for nothin’ Tin Man – you heartless bastard.
If you think the witch is dead, she’s not.
She’s ringing your bell as we speak.
The wicked witch of despair is breathing down your neck
and she’ll get you in the end, you and your little dog too.
You think “the man” will help you?
Not a chance. He’s already drawn the curtain on you.
Pay no attention to him.
The world is full of small people
and as far as they’re concerned
you can take a flyin’ monkey leap off a bridge.
So go ahead – click your heels together,
you are never, never, never going home.
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