It’s the fried egg sandwich on white bread

And cherry yogurt on a tray

Little things I’ll miss when I’m dead

Are the reasons why I try to stay

Take the fresh clean sheets off my bed

They’re a part of every day

The kind of thing that I’ll miss

Or are these things just in my way

What I know is indecision

Where I’ll go is in the air

It is driving to derision

What is left below my hair!











C 2010 David Brunoehler





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