A Song Writers Call Poem by Walter C. Edwards

A Song Writers Call



When the wombat calls,
as the walrus raise it head,
the serpent winds around the dead,
as I dream so deep,
the muskrat makes its mating shrills,
then a cat bird starts to sing,
as I eat apple pie by the levy,
when I drive my frozen Mercedes Benz,
as I pull up to the wine house,
in such a purple haze,
as it smells like a bit like teen spirit,
but I had a million dollars,
I just spend it all,
as I eat apple pie by the levy,
near the dock of the bay,
then I think to myself every little thing,
will be alright.

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