Six Cans of Formula Hell

short poem about birth. music for acoustic guitar and piano.

skeleton hands reaching out the ground

comin' back for one more round

drop by drop, pull a pint of ale

as the cemetary wind blows a gale

 

sportin' sunglasses after dark

drinkin' whiskey in in the park

petrification is never seen

yet we all exist to pass on our genes

 

carbon monoxide fills the air

in sparse emissions, insidious health scare

the world is filled with empty space

decimated by the human race

 

the human burden is the mortal curse

the journey from the womb to worse

the uterus fills with fatal juice

to get married and then, to reproduce

 

six cans of formula hell