To Bukowski and Hard Times.
There’s a part of me, deep inside, a bluebird, perhaps
That sways while the world burns
To a waltz that no one else can hear but me.
In spite of all the terror and fear and anxiety in my world
Since the world is ending, I’m throwing the party.
Dance with me. Dance for you. Dance, dance.
For three minutes. One side of the vinyl. Sell more of them if you do –
Dance. Even though the world is falling down around you.
Cry those alligator tears from your brown eyes
while the pain weeps from the soles of your feet
The ones that keep you moving forward, never back
When shit goes down, mo bounce.
I’m tired of relinquishing my power to an automated
computer program who can eliminate me from the stack,
Saying I’m not worth the time.
Overqualified to live the life that I deserve.
Life is cold but all I see is gold
on the hour when the sun sets in the desert of my heart.
They say the good die young, so I’ll keep dancing.
There’s nothing left to do now, but Dance.