Pardon Me, Do You Have Any Grey Poupon?

I’m sorry to interrupt you

My face seems to have turned blue

I choked on the truth I thought I knew

Drowned in oceans while standing on the beach

Water teaming could have, should have out of reach

I guess some horses you simply cannot teach

I scratched my scabs ‘til my fingers bled

Scoured my yesterdays ‘til my eyes read

With whispers colliding inside my head

Do I collect dirty tissues out of hobby or habit?

You’re late, you’re late, screams my dirty white rabbit

Too busy wishing my Prince would stop saying ribbit

But that didn’t rhyme, this time, a word crime

I give you my poison with forced rhyme poking with fork’s tine

Painting colors with bloody fingers, since I am color blind

Or am I in a bind? Wasting all my time? Is this blood or frog slime?

Sometimes I wish for a DeLorean, so I can get forewarning

Sometimes I wish I was Vader, so I can choke a bitch for my mourning

Yet my life is like Titanic, and I find glaciers yearning

Me and cement were made for swimming

You and lament were made for tears brimming

One day I’ll stop and ask your Cheshire cat grinning

“Could you give me some mustard for the shit sandwich I call Thanksgiving?”


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