the kids are funny, honey

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acid washed dreams

the kids are acting funny, honey.
they like to play out in the fields.
they don’t care about our money
or how much our company yields.
they want to see the flowers bloom
under cotton candy skies.
they don’t see how adulthood looms
past their milkshake soaked french fries.

the kids are acting silly, billy.
glueing their fingers together.
too preoccupied plotting wet willies
to be thinking about forever.
they haven’t a clue about the economy,
they are too busy playing house.
how do they understand monogamy
when they don’t really love their spouse?

yes, the kids are quite crazy, miss daisy.
i hear them singing about posies and falling.
they prefer earth when the air gets hazy.
they are angels listening for heaven’s calling.
when the night blankets the ground
the kids strike matches on rocks.
the spark it makes is their favorite sound
and they put out the flame with their socks.

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