The Tell-Tale Bells
The bells! The bells!
My looney, tuney pals!
The bells! The bells!
They curse and vex and howl!
The bells! The bells!
I must escape them somehow!
The bells! The bells!
The clanging, banging swells!
The bells! The bells!
The peeling, reeling knells!
The bells! The bells!
Sending, rending me to hell!
Imagination my frustration,
At the tintinnabulation,
Of the bells in ministration,
Ringing in my ears,
Bringing phantom fears,
To their fruition.
Look into my blood-shot eyes,
What is it there you see inside?
Is there anything you find?
Except the ringing of the bells,
And the tales their singing tells,
Of the state of my mind.
As the copper chimes toll,
I play out my destined roll,
Of telling lies and selling souls.
The chimes are peeling,
Ever revealing,
The dice I must roll.
The tinkling of the wind chimes,
Reminds my mind at times,
Of tiny screaming mimes.
Dancing on a string,
Annoying little things,
There’s no reason to this rhyme.
The drummer strikes his cow bell,
Big Ben strikes the hour till,
No time left, It’s now or nil.
Make them stop!
The bells atop,
The alarm clock on the window-sill.
At the tolling of the iron bell,
Stumbling to my knees I fell,
Save me from the souls I sell.
But what chance or circumstance,
Can save me from this fiery dance?
Surly, I exist in hell.
The terror tell-tale bells,
The clanging, banging wells,
The ringing of the death knells.
In sanity I was fate,
Now insanity is my fate,
Asylums, pills and mental cells.
Crying sanctuary!
At the constabulary,
It’s quite contrary,
When you see things,
As a madman sees,
It’s all elementary.
But do you think me mad?
Do you think my situation sad?
Do you believe my motives bad?
The proof is in the pudding,
If you lost your footing,
You might slip a tad.
But now, what of the bells little game?
The song they sing remains the same,
The death knell’s their claim to fame.
But the bells, they lie,
They don’t want me to die,
They want to drive me insane.
Yes, the bells, I’ve got them beat!
Cause my mind’s chaotically neat,
You see it’s all in the feet.
Methinks they are confused,
Me thinks that they will lose,
Cause my dancing’s far too sweet!
The bells assume I'm an ass,
Trying to get me to repeat the past,
They don’t see the mad travel fast.
They don’t seem to know,
They ring far too slow,
And the moment of madness won't last.
Do you really think me mad now?
As I dance and laugh, and take a bow,
I know I’m sane somehow, pal.
The sane become insane,
The insane remain the sane.
Singing: “The bells are ringing for me and my gal!”
Copyright © Jeff W. Watson | Year Posted 2020
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