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By coujeaux Date: 2003 Mar 06 Comment on this Work [[2003.03.06.21.14.26417]] |
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Squelch of the needle was a startler, and soundtrack of the suffering had completed, If her excuse record had somehow become broken I would have felt almost cheated. Never saw anyone spin from a musical chair like her; she does the turntablists proud, A song and dance routine straight out of Vaudeville, and man are her distortions loud. Covering my ears was useless, because her sonic wails penetrate straight to the brain, Nothing says I love you like hurricane hysterics rumbling upstairs like a runaway train. Jigsaw women are my specialty; I glue 'em back together when others wouldn't dare, Give me another rearranged honey with a shredded psyche from tender loving care. Whole world let 'em down somehow, so here comes Mr. Fix-Her with his expert tools, You can repair anyone with screws, some nuts, the proper lubrication and slide rules. Handymen are underappreciated, you know; we keep your ride running just like new, The moment her warranty runs out, we'll perform scheduled maintenance on her too! My way or the highway sounds pretty attractive right now; but where to hang my hat? I've heard all the invitations to drop on in and sit a spell, wanna get me some of that? Unknown in front of me, shambles in the rear view; this is not so difficult as I believe, Gimme Hollywood imagery of climactic explosions moment I decide to take my leave. This is a story that has a happy ending, though; well, at least if I finally have my say, Shades over my eyes and exhaust clouds blinding my pursuers as I make a getaway. |