return to my poetry's home.

this one should be fairly obvious - it's based on some of the stuff i came up with while jamming to blues in a highly unpleasant practice room...

the house of skank

oh, i'm jamming,
jamming in this house of skank,
oh i'm jamming,
but this place is really rank.

the skankster, he lives at number three,
oh, i thought i saw him smokin' a tree..
yeah, but in that smoke filled air,
i sure didn't see anyone care.

oh it's the air,
the air is really getting fetid,
oh it's the air,
i don't wanna know what these guys did.

oh come see the wasters of the world,
yeah, watch them fester and grow old.
marvel as they light their little white dummies,
and run around a-calling for their mummies.

oh i'm choking,
choking in this house of skank.
oh, i said i'm choking,
because this place is really rank.

© 09/oct/2002 the auroran sunset