Thieves and liars and shopping cart pushers all crowded around my door
Laundry mat, trailer park Winchell's Donut patrons
All coming to settle a score
Aborted fetuses and welfare mothers
Cowboys, junkies, cops and others
(More criminal than myself, that's for sure)
Collect on my doormat and want to inhabit
The storage bin under my porch
I get tired of the fighting that always breaks out whenever I let one come in
I just never learn to padlock my mouth shut, I don't guess I'll ever win
All I can do is leave out some food in a dish
Throw out my line, and try to catch a fish
Caught without a plan, I'm caught
Standing in the beer department of my supermarket
While all eyes from behind glass & down aisles and
otherwise look at my car & how I park it
I'm not a lunatic, but I always try
To break out of reality now & again
It's just a shame that when I get there or
Leave here (whatever's the case) someone always knows my name
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.