Blonde

There’s something about a certain type of blonde
That gets under my skin like a Celine Dion song
Something I can’t quite put my finger on
Something a little off in the interaction
Something that puts my teeth on edge
Something that makes me want to push her off a ledge
Something that puts my back up high
A chilly something in her eyes
Something that begs for a slap in the face
And a sign for let saying Vacant Space

Babel

I know the heat of the fires of hell
In fact I know them very well
The devil sits just down the hall
Job bags build an enormous wall
Kind of like the Tower of Babel
I’d throw myself off if I were able
My boot sole snapped when I got to work
The power that be is a total jerk
My foot is aching, my head is too
There is no toilet paper in the loo
I’m sitting grafting all alone
Screw this, I’m going home

Missing

Has anybody seen my mug?
I had some tea in it ‘cause it keeps it hot
I might have left it somewhere and just forgot
Has anybody seen my mug?
It’s just a humble little mug
It’s not great looking, but it keeps things hot
And my mum gave it to me so I like it a lot
It’s a yucky sort of green with a picture of a lion
From the Kruger Park. I like to think he’s smiling
If you’ve seen him lying sadly all alone
Please bring him to me so I can take him home