I turn on the TV
Slot my hands around a cold beer
This would be a TV party if I still had friends
Around, listening to Black Flag
But they’d only steal my cold beer
And I’ve only got 3 cans left
And Friends is on Four
Pouring out funny one liners
So I close my eyes
And listen to the tins of laughter
Ha ha ha ha ha haa
The laughter of the dead
Electronically held
Distilled
Bestowed
Sound gets louder now
For the adverts
Waking to tell me
About cheap new shirts
And how life would be so much
Better with less dirt
On my dishes and less hurts
From more empty wishes
About more money, cold money,
Hard cash all in a funny way
And in a funny way they’re right
The blues don’t run
In new jogging pants
The blues don’t run
In new running shoes
I gaze into the tubes
And my head joins the dots
