Richard Jarboe

Population, getting out of town,
Population, got their running shoes,
Population, wondering which road to choose,
Everybody's getting out of town.
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With apology to Bruce Willis...

we don't wrap our women up in burkas,
we like bikinis on the beach,
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What good does it do,
To profile each other?
Our roots are the same,
Our blood the same color.
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When you ride with Betty Ann close your eyes,
Riding with Betty Ann better keep them closed,
Betty Ann doesn't drive; Betty Ann flies,
Crash dummy rolling down the road.
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There's a thin line between the poet and the bum,
Usually both are broke,
In boxing circles, there's the bum of the month,
And like the poet, considered a joke.
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I got patches on my jeans
Roach clip on the dash
LSD, mushrooms, reefer and hash
I've been to California, been to Mexico too
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Eating disorder, or is it?
It's eat or be eaten, you can't miss it,
That's the order of the disorder,
Hooked to a food chain, or should I say food train.
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I know this may come as a total surprise
But the gold in the field shines like your eyes
If only I could bring together the two
I'd waltz across the gold field with you.
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I'm in Heaven, but I got a bad knee
Heaven, but I got a bad knee
I'm in Heaven with my family
Heaven, but I got a bad knee.
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Emanations locked inside breath
Emanations- part of the air
Locked inside ether
Part of everywhere.
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Nothing to fear but fear itself,
Fear itself is nothing to fear,
Nothing to fear but fear itself,
Fear itself is nothing to fear.
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Business as usual will be coming back soon,
Say goodbye to the sun, say goodbye to the moon,
The sky over China will disappear,
And India will re-polute by the end of the year.
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It ain't none of my business,
But you sure look good to me,
Tell me if you will,
Who your handler be?
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Cigarettes,
Lottery tickets,
And Beer.
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Still, you're born alone,
Still, you die alone,
Still, you try to fit in.
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Selling cigarettes sell doubt of the hurt,
Selling sugar sell doubt of dessert,
Selling anything sell doubt about health,
Selling hedge funds sell doubt about wealth.
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Should you shoot back, should you shoot back, should you shoot?
When the truth is you are under attack, should you shoot back?
Should you shoot the shooter, should you shoot?
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You got to do a lot, if you want to be on top of the heap
You got to learn to stop, if you know you're a flop on your feet
Knowing you're going nowhere, knowing you're blowing hot air
On top of the heap.
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Thick phantoms of wonder,
All mysteries rip,
Return with composure,
From their seasonal trip.
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