your darkness my sun


your ancestors got the ghost on the run

your best friends are dropping by for fun

as you contemplate purchasing a gun

let your darkness, my dear, be my sun


such a dank dweller under a sliver of moon

unable to find your silver spoon

disabled by the great baboon

let us build a little fire in this dark lagoon


go ahead, roast a marshmello

i’ll open the canteen

god bless your happy-face hello

& you know exactly what i mean


we’re not playing tootsies

we’re not slaying teddy bears

we’re getting older by the minute

as we navigate the starry stairs


the ducks quack in the pond

your cups crack in the cupboard

the street is crawling like a snake

have no fear, my dear, it’s time to bake


ah yes, your birthday cake!

flour & water & sugar

lots of vanilla frosting on top

oh when when will we stop?


i mean this is our favorite month

saint despair breathes down the back of your neck

mister despicable lunges for your hand

but i shall shield you with holy word


your ancestors got ’em on the run

your best friends are coming over for some fun

here’s a handfull of bullets for your new gun

your darkness, dear friend, my sun


elvis bojangles





copyright clyde collins 2017



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