Lost at Sea

There'll be no drinking in Heaven
till after the stroke of seven.
When it becomes eleven,
I will be released.

Every time that I'm in Heaven,
I feel as if I'm un-leaven.
I think I need some yeast.

Do not try to yell on Hell,
if you have a story to tell.
There is no water in the well.
And you will meet the beast.

Every time that I'm in Hell,
I feel I'm turning into jell.
Without having been deceased.

When you're neither here or there,
and no one seems to really care.
Do not try to fight despair.
There is no love for you.

Every time that I am there,
I feel I'm done medium rare.
And I will get the flu.

There is no place such as home.
We will always have to roam.
No one will give you a loan.
And you'll have no money anyway.

Every time I feel at home,
there is nothing of my own.
And I am made of clay.

Which ever way you want to go.
It doesn't matter anymore.
Someone went and locked the door.
And I don't have the key.

Please don't try to break it down.
You will only shake the ground.
I'll be spinning round and round.
And we'll be lost at sea!

Michael R. Roth

 

Archived 02/13/2010