Where he laid down his books
taller grass overlooks
yonder green, which the landscaper mows
and he smiled to himself,
"Here they'll stay, with my wealth
and if found on this ground,
well who knows?"

Like the soft lullabies calm the child who cries
though he can't know the words, what they mean
yet the music comes thorough
and the words call to you  
from the soil where the tall grass is green!

Where the tall grass stays green
and though none has 'er seen
any books to these days
guess they've all blown a ways
but the wealth of this man
can you all understand
is the land where the grass never greys!

yes, it's true
and indeed
this old man knew his seed  
and indeed
grew green grass that was tall
that's not all...

it was in
his own hand
that he wrote
"Golf is Grand"
and his song
to this day
sung by all.

hard rain through old pines
new shoots up from dirt and stone  
rise up, it had to be.

you are a
very
mysterious one
don't know if I can
ever
figure you out
you hold my thoughts
within the palm of your hand
I melt like chocolate
sweet old M'n Ms

you are a very
mysterious one
I've never
liked your type before
not one to jump
into anyone's arms
still this is something
you've softened up my core.

You say you
can see
inside my shell
that my sweetness
was the very key
You say I've no more
secrets to tell
'cause you've devoured them for me?

Well I'd never say that
you are The One
and I don't need to tell you
you'll always be free
no I won't allow
you  
under my skin
don't come any closer
but hey there again
that's
just me.

You are a
very
mysterious one
my coldness lies
in the palm
of your hands
you don't care
that I am
a mess
you like me
just like we're old friends
tee hee hee

You say you
see inside my shell
my sweetness
was the very key
that I have no secrets left to tell
'cause you've devoured them for me?

you are a
very mysterious one
no secrets
and making no demand
quite open
and always looking for fun
tomorrow
gonna change my
my candy brand.

you are a
very mysterious one

I took a walk with Misery
we've been walking for a while
sometimes he says I go too slow
but I'll go that extra mile.

We don't say much and that's okay,
I'm not much one for talking
Silence makes good company
though some may find this shocking.

Well Misery's been up and down
these old familiar roads
prefers to walk with strangers now
who'll kick against the goads.

He's seen his share of Trouble
it invites him in for tea;
he walks the sullen pathway home
alongside Sympathy.

They take the train quite often
and meet up at the bars
Self Pity's always waiting
with her bottle, wounds and scars.

They buy a round and toast the clown
whose always got one-liners
to keep the crowd distracted
from the sad-sack whining piners.

Adversity can test your will
and take away your smile
you might meet up with Misery
and settle for a while,

to dwell upon the negative
will limit where you go~
and stuck inside, you'll just abide,
and surely miss the show.

Reflecting on old Misery,
I've often let him lead
through disappointments,
heartache,
and my own uncertain need.

I slow my pace and let him pass,
and turning up the sound
I bid farewell to Misery,
it's time to turn around

Love is hairy, stubbly stuff
shave all week it's never enough
whether I shave it or slather on Nair
whack it or hack it will always be there.

Keeps coming back as much as you crop it
waxing and chemicals can’t even stop it
try to ignore it, the nubs comes in thick
even my eyebrows, a uni-brow chick.

Come Saturday I don’t really care
let it grow outta my underwear
Let it alone, that unruly mop
looks like I got me a nice bumper crop

This is my way, ain’t gonna change
my love and my hair are looking deranged
Sitting there pondering love and love's looks
flippin’ through Cosmo and metrosex books

Beauty is bare in my favorite rag
Nary a hairy or haggard old nag
Eyebrows are separate and carefully arched
Lips are injected and never seem parched.

Legs are **** smooth, and so are are the pits
Love is not given to hairy chick fits.
Speaking of nares, mine is exempt
The nose and the ears are extremely well kempt.

Sunday mornin’ rolls around
but his razor can’t be found....
I call out his name and wait for an answer
his ditty bag’s gone could It be that dancer?

The one that he watches the one he admires
could she be the one whose igniting his fires?
I’ve seen her there waiting the picture of grace
smooth, fair and agile not a hair out of place

I sit on the edge of the tub shocked and numb
look in the mirror then look at my thumb
I eye up the woman whose not spent a dime
on personal pleasures as though it’s a crime

My overgrown garden could not see the light
missed out on the sweetness, bare skin’s delight
Bought into myth and every girls hope
that she’d still be worth something without any soap.

Rummaged around in a drawer feeling sick
through my tears I lay hold of my old Lady Bic
Slipped into the shower convinced he despised me
lathered and cried, none of this has surprised me

He'd seemed a bit distant, preoccupied,
the more I persisted, the less satisfied
I should have considered my Love is not blind
his eyes are like sponges his vision will find

The best of the beauties the cream of the crop
as sweet sugar blossoms parade past his shop
I have an epiphany there in the suds
Time's never wasted on pruning the buds

Better to nip 'em if you're feelin manly
can't be mistaken for Charles or Stanley.
Lord knows the time I've put in at Curves
not that i see any good that it serves

So who really cares if he's after that minx
just between us we know how she stinks
Let him go sister try rising above
'cause if that's all he's after it ain't really love.

Making my plans to rip up his picture
wipe out his memory no longer a fixture
I can't say that I needed nor much that I cared
for the man or his ***** laundry I've aired

When into my steamy retreat disconcerted
the voice of the man I was sure had deserted.
I silence my heart and put down the Bic
ease back the curtain and see my St. Nick

The hairy faced heathen battered and worn
face kind of prickly needs to be shorn.
'What is THIS? 'he demands and holds out his hand
'Why, a worn out old mach 3, the triple edge brand! '

"I just CHANGED this blade and the thing's dull and rusted!"
"Heck if I know", but I know I’ve been busted.
Step out of the shower bare skin drippin' wet
'At this rate I think I’ll buy stock in Gillette.'

I hold out my Bic and smile at old Bones
"Would you like me to light your cigar, Mr. Jones?"
Leave him to his business, which won’t include the shave
Love is stubbly,love is soft and hairy to the grave.

I asked for the color I had as a child
"I don't think so", he said, and that's putting it mild~

I went to get up from the chair but soon found
the weight of that bib thing was weighing me down~

the eyes of the stylist, so cold and unkind
were narrowing as he approached from behind~

and in his hand something we both recognized
'twas the braid from my worst childhood fears realized!

The one he'd cut off right here at the neck
and left me there wearing a '****'... what the heck!

"You don't want this color, it's way too outdated
and what could be duller, than the one God created~

What you need now is product I'LL mix
a light honey blond with some purple, to fix

the damage you did with your cheap color tricks,
and the thing I hate MOST about all of you chicks!"

"Barberian justice would snip off your locks,
but you've suffered far worse when you turned to the box~

and then to add 'insult', you pulled through the cap
and expecting great highlights, got dried out straw crap.

Next time we'll just give you a "shorty", it's called,
don't mess with my color or you may wind up bald!