Schizophrenic To Disco Lights
[Bass drop]
I saw the lights—red, blue, divine,
Thought the cops were DJs droppin’ beats in a line.
Sirens wailing like synths on fire,
My brain said “dance,” my legs said “fly, sir!”
I hit the field like a disco crusader,
Tripped on a skunk—funk’s personal invader.
He popped up slow, tail in the air,
Struck a pose like he just don’t care.
Now he’s moonwalking, tail all curled,
Smelling like heartbreak and end-of-the-world.
But he’s got rhythm, he’s got soul,
My backup dancer with a funk patrol.
We’re dodging sprinklers, leaping bins,
Grooving through trauma with manic grins.
Neighbors scream, “Boy, that ain’t no club!”
But we’re two funky fugitives, fresh from the hub.
[Beat builds]
Boston Marathon? That’s my cardio set,
Every siren’s a remix, every flash a threat.
But I run like I’m chasing a Grammy tonight,
Skunk on my six, tail lit up bright.
He spins, I slide, we break into splits,
Funk so strong it’s giving folks fits.
Ambulance lights? Just lasers to me,
Police flashers? That’s my LED.
So if you see those lights—don’t panic, don’t freeze,
Just yell, “Warn a brother!” and drop to your knees.
Let the funk possess you, let the madness flow,
We’re dancing through delusions with a technicolor glow.
[Final drop]
Reality’s cracked, but the beat is tight,
We’re the disco prophets of schizophrenic light.
Skunk and I, we own the night—
Smelling like funk, but feeling just right.
Copyright ©
Michael Fulkerson
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