A Sharp Ton of Bricks

It’s three in the mornin’

I don’t feel like sleepin’;

Uncanny how often that’s happenin’

These spring-beginnin’ days?

A sharp ton of bricks,

Terror metal cannons

And arm-wrestle threats

Smother the routes

To freedom

But I’m sleepin’ with the

Sweet, never-wrong money,

Pushin’ names an’ people

Into the latest best-thing boxes –

Keepin’ my never-wise

Head on my shoulders –

So company good and bad,

All the king’s horses

And all the king’s beauties

Can’t touch me.

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