On the sandy beach in the dark of night
Wondering what will become of me now,
I cry for the first time in a long time.
Are these tears of sadness or happiness?
Splat! They make so loud a noise on the waves.
Can the suit hear my tears; will he come for me,
Knowing I'm not great, but the best he's got
And thrust me behind that fettering desk?
That wonderfully horrible pine desk,
The creator of sorrow and gladness;
The infertile mom of longing careers
Who does not know she will never produce,
And so builds a false sensation for them,
Her children, full of life, passion, and dreams.
Mourn for those who knew the consequences,
Of jumping into the ocean of sharks.
Those black-hearted man eaters; editors,
Who devour your arm, yet, expect more;
More writing, more feelings, more everything,
Enough! Quiet! I don't want to hear it.
You know this is what I no longer want,
So leave me alone and let me just be.
I think on the beach I'll stay forever,
Singing to myself, "Nany-nany-na."
