Monday, December 17, 2012

Grass. . .

 
. . . growing two feet high
Casting awful shadows
Bicycles, cupboards all awry
Pieces of linoleum pie flash by

His family had nothing to say
So embarrassed
Helpless too
What makes a man turn out this way
Can he change or is this how he'll stay

There's just no talking to the junk man
There's just no talking to the junk man
With shelves and pottery stacked to the sky
He won the lottery back in 05
Now he's a millionaire
But he can't find anything
In all the junk

The neighbors don't know what to do
They've got visions of a jungle
No one thought they'd see the neighborhood
In this state
You know this can't be good

There's just no talking to the junk man
There's just no talking to the junk man
With shelves and pottery stacked to the sky
He won the lottery back in 05
Now he's a millionaire
But he can't find anything
In all the junk

The Junkman
©2009 Raymond M. Jozwiak





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