my dad was bad, my mom was good
we lived in a nasty neighborhood
ruled by men who smoked cigars
and read the racing form, not the stars
dad was a man of few words
and did not like to be disturbed
he was the master of his space
and of weakness showed no trace
i see him sitting at his table
upright as long as he was able
to ride the tides of gin and beer
pouring through him, year after year
mrs johnson lived upstairs
and we heard her saying prayers
at any time of night or day
to the lord she had a lot to say
mrs morris lived across
the hall - she was a total loss
behind her door we heard her sighs
was she a princess in disguise?
i had ideas above my station
and was filled with determination
to climb the ladder of success
to have white teeth and be well dressed
to the library every night i went
and long hours there i spent
absorbing the wisdom of the ages
from famous prophets, saints, and sages
all my efforts were for nought
everything i read i soon forgot
with brains i was not blessed
and i could not pass the tests
invented by people in towers
who must have spent long hours
laughing at chumps like me
whose failure was their destiny
by day i worked at placing cans
on shelves according to a plan
devised by some faraway machine
to do this job i was not keen
though i had little enthusiasm
i worked without obvious spasms
of rage. rebellion, or hate
and seemed to accept my fate
it made my blood run cold
to be always and forever told
how lucky i was to be employed
and not be swallowed by the void
one day i went for a walk
down along the docks
the sky and water were gray
civilization seemed far away
and it still does
in my head i feel a buzz
that is all for today
maybe some day i will find my way
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