There’s a racket in my brain
That’s been gone for so long
That makes all the mess:
Chicklets on the table,
And memories of messages
Written in block
On beige walls of the cold school
Eluding so many.
This, as so,
Has taken up my mind
And left me unguarded
To the whims of the Mafia
We call World Order.
So where can I go?
Who can I look to?
For the racket in my brain
Seems to like all the rain.