What would you do?

If your guitar broke and ain’t got the glue

If life ain’t such a groovy mood]

If what you said is nothing more

Or less than what you knew?

 

What would you do?

 

If an Indian came to say Olé!

A farmer made you a bed of hay

A daughter sung to you

At night “It’s so far away…”

 

What do you do with looking

What with stupefaction

On the inside

Shoes moaning

 

Plates got in the way

Whoring

Bagatelle

Boring

 

That’s life

It’s your goading

Stealing

Breathing

Insult

into boring

The mooring

That stays there

As much as you’d like

to depart

It’s always too far

an excuse

to be ourselves

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