(How did I get here?)

Someone stuck in need of help
Could scream and screech for assistance
I'd get up to fix myself some
Cream cheese and biscuits
And hope,
Pouring cheap cream in peach tea
That I'll choke
On a smoke
Or the last splash of cheap cream
To the back of my throat

(How do I get home?)

If you think you can pilot this pile of shit
Down the Styx, give a kick,
A cadaverous punt
We will sink the corpses of Captain and Corporal
Then Monday have drinks and a scavenger hunt
One day under the noon rays of sun
On the sand we will gather for leisure and lunch
To gather together
A bunch of gull feathers
And bottles and books
In our brown leather trunk.

Cheap Cream

Oh how I want to be rarely blue
All smiles and laughs and silly raps about good food
I did my time inside my mind
What I found true
Is dimmed and tired
My mind expired 
In twenty-one-two.

Highway 1 Blues

Verdant loopery.
Anti-pop architecture.
Socially-unaware danceability.
Phat harmonies.
Lyrical flights of fancy.
Vapid, fame-seeking meaninglessness.

Snake Walk