Santa is Dying

There was a man long after Christmas Day

Who asked for just one toy

All he wanted was a way

To spread the world with joy

He has spent all of his money, lost all of his friends

And he cannot find a job

His whole life worth lies in a can

And it’s the locals call him Bob

It doesn’t matter how he lives

On at 15¢ a day

This week was cold and the trash was bad

And cops took his bed away

And on his last hour he remembered

Exactly who he was

He was the man in the big Red suit

You once called Santa Claus


I sit on a corner with nowhere to go

I ask myself a question I really don’t know

              Talk to my shadow

               Blow a kiss to the air

          I wonder if I’ll find

          A certain someone who cares

I feel so deserted

In a crowd by myself

      Wishing for the doll

   That I may place on a shelf

Twenty-four From Now

What will I do tomorrow when I’m finished with today
Will the day be soaked in boredom or may I go out and play
On the inside I’m wet
On the inside I can’t forget
On the outside I cry
On the outside I wonder why
A bird with a broken wing has his reason not to sing
Many trees an open field but only one had fruit to yield

Main Street Kiss

Paper thin skin how can I win and within I sin
Perhaps this is the life and the loss of my wife gives me greif to derive
And the time that was lost would leave me
and the ones that sit beside me does find the need to hide me
and has no needs abide me and lay their eyes beside me
oh the supermodel mood and the whole attitude makes me feel nude
this whole bar scene and the afro sheen is not funny its mean
those gals I suppose I hesitate to propose, who knows
and a change and a chance to bring rage and romance we look at it
the bouncer at the bar says that life is in the stars
and the bitches are the way to the end
the chairs are all stacked and the gals have gone
I would not charge for the beauty at large who would?
the beautiful noven vixen blows or should I say sucks my cheek
and makes me weak
from the shores of Belmont what could she want now that feeling was gaunt
If I ask her to pose what do I suppose what would she sell?
one rose?
that kiss by Jennifer and the gal of choice what a wonderful voice
I win you lose you look I lose
I live a block from the shore
are you a whore?
then I want more
you know the MO and where I wish to go
I Will go slow
you are so slow
hell I don’t know
I wish to stare at the one I adore, what of the door
If you’re not too busy and I say who is he on the sands of Redondo
I fell of the shore and I fell for much more