A Moderate To Severe Case

Sixty-something singing something right out of Sadsongs,
Dreams of lithesome ladies fulfilling emerald dresses,
Going yodel for yodel with any Plant, Tyler, or McCartney,
The neighbors blink away their latest weekend distresses.
Another rocker has met his maker,
And one’s SLAP tear twists merrily away,
Eyes tear and then sight clears—
Time to remember, to forget, and dream it all away.
Longing for a Life when it was simple all in black and white,
But that’s all gone now, and my maker nearing closer in sight.
Suffering from a moderate to severe case of stupid,
Looking for love, I slammed the door in the face of Cupid.
And the sun shades down like suns often do;
While losing the grip for the thought of you;
Where’s that road poorly-traveled to happiness?
Can’t get there from here, I guess.

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