The ladder slung over the doorway
The mirror about to break
Black cats on my driveway
By my door garlic and a wooden steak
The ghost are restless in the attic
I can't wait for it to be over
The air is thick and static
I'm looking for a four leaf clover
How much salt over my shoulder
And buddha's stomach to rub
I'm hoping I get another day older
Or should I stay in the bath tub?
Stepping on cracks,
Will my mother break her back?
I see 14 in the picture plain
Can you explain the bad luck again?
Oh well off to work again
Playing with chocolate and biscuits
It's not a lot of pain
But about 720 minutes
Friday the 13th comes to me now
To the dark forces I bow
If I live I don't know how
Throw caution to the wind because here I go now...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem