A classic parody from Ray Comfort, still as funny today.
There are holes in the sky
Where the rain gets in,
But they’re ever so small
That’s why rain is thin.
I take you from this barren ground
my son of hours.
And hold you to my empty breast
waiting for your hand to free my finger.
But you cling to this moment
as if it had a future.
Go now little one
there’s nothing to eat if you stay
except these saltless tears
so pointless now
I rarely find the time to bleed.
I have clouds in my brain,
that choke my heart
now that we are apart.
And if the yellow sun does not rise I will smile
knowing I am free from its heat for a while.
Wood becomes a flute when it’s loved
Mirror becomes a razor when it’s broken
They are shouting at you.
They always are.
Sometimes clear, but mostly tinnitus;
a malfunction of the ear.
The constant whine; “Think this, be that.”
You do not hear?
Line by line; “Fear this, hate that.”
You are rewritten.
Watch out now, take care
Beware of soft shoe shufflers
Dancing down the sidewalks
As each unconscious sufferer
Beware of Maya