Hat Holders - 2012/06/01

Where do they wander
The ones long left behind
Shall we ever kill off
Ghosts joy could not find

Crawling from place to place
Dingy hats held in their hand
Calling out for passing help
Slowly enveloped by quicksand

Burn burn burn
They come not with the hoses
Cackle Cackle Cackle
Even as their coffin closes

Eyes glazed over
Their ears stuffed with ego
Misery loves company
So they still call you amigo

Fill your glass with scotch
And light up premium tobacco
To congratulate you yourself
On escaping from these wackos

For their time is not now
Though the clock is ticking
Fools persist to their doom
As they take another licking

Celebrate our short lives
By feasting upon their death
As nobody holds the right to
An infinite supply of breath

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