Blanch Crab--
the next day..
A new generation must have it's way..
I may be dead deaf and dumb
But here I will stay..
I'll call the cops right here from my grave
You young punks are now middle-aged..
Hurrah for me! for you lost all the battles..
and I won the war..
For Blanch Crab is my name
and I sleep with the lights on..
Every little thing bothers me so..
A cough a sneeze a tip toe on your floor..
An out of tune guitar played real loud
at half-past four..
Grandview cops are my Lord and Savior..
Dressed in blue I have them on speed dial
and I'll send them straight to you..
Bang Bang with their billy clubs
on my mother's stained glass front door..
saying, "Open up we know you're in there,
we just want to talk with you!!"
I have your Landlord's ear, right here in my pocket..
Every time you punks make some noise
I whisper right to it..
And he listens well..
Every time I talk to him..
Eviction is the price you pay..
For loud punk rock music is still the crime of the day..
I'm the ghost of your youth the pill you just can't swallow..
I'm your what could have been what should have been
I'm the last nail in your coffin..
Without me you would never had been free to get a higher education..
a cushy job and live in the lap of luxury..
Too late to turn back the clock rewind your mind to the place you forgot..
I'm like all the nasty things in life all your road blocks..
Placed in your way..
To keep you safe and sound in a nice mint chocolate chip room..
Fill your head with Lithium overdose on Prolixin
and hear suicide suggestions from not so nice pigeons..
Don't forget the prisons that some mistake as school..
The Art teacher who liked to f**k with you..
Just some issues at home with Mom and no Dad..
A lonely paperboy pothead who likes to ride his Solex moped..
Climb up trees get sap in my hair and masterbate myself to sleep
for communism is everywhere..
The Kinks and Jimi Hendrix was all I ever cared to listen to
Then along came Matthew..with a very similar and yet different
take on things..
Drinking beer at Crazy Mamma's pretending we could dance
driving home drunk in a Fiat waking up at home..
with Gyro puke on my Mom's stereo all the while making
counterfeit copies of the Ramones new album..
Ah, the things we remember as a youth..
A fragile mind kept glued together with an active imagination
and a wanting to see what's behind the curtain..
Little green men sent to me through sine waves while
praying in a corn field staring at the Sun..I had run out of gas
My Honda Nighthawk I had to pull over at a Duke and Duchess
in a small town called Mt.Gilead..
All by the time I turned 21..
I'll stop writing for now..because I think I'm boring you..
So until another time..if you care to walk with me
through my life..I'll be here waiting for you..
~~the end
By Rick Weber
March 22, 2014
1535 hours
copy rights reserved 2014
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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