Further Tales Of Mere Existence...
Impatient.
Ignorant to the great art of waiting,
Maybe time would speed up if I started,
Pacing back and forth while frowning,
A the clock. That seems to be mocking me,
Ticking and toking as mundanely and slowly as possible,
Impatience that only comes when,
An individual is forced to wait and wait,
Enraged we tap our feet or hum along to the,
Never ending drumming of fingers,
That only comes with being impatient...
The Christmas Spirit!
Yes summer may be ending,
But let's sit back and relish in,
The cold that only winter can bring,
Singing about fat birds while beggars grow steadily thin,
The hollow in people's voices and the cold in their eye,
Facing debt and the awaited winter heating bills,
Struggling with threatening letters the less fortunate can only sigh,
The Father Christmas demand really kills,
Walking down the high street with red noses and fingers numb,
Then the long drive home after squeezing in some last minute things,
Giving guilty looks at those throwing out a lone blue thumb,
Just trying for a lift watching us who are in their eyes kings,
But rejoice sit back and force a smile,
Tuck the debts away and face a Christmas alone,
Dream of that beautiful Christmas feeling that'll last for a while,
Or just keep checking your messages on a dusty phone,
When it snows I guess we can all enjoy that,
Turning up the heat,
Pulling on thick gloves and scarf, boots and Christmas hat,
But the second your out it feels below zero with icy feet,
You'll shuffle around trying to look like you're having fun,
Before stumbling back in,
Knowing that really you just need someone,
Making dismally lukewarm hot chocolate from a pound land tin,
Throwing soggy clothes by the fire,
Staring out that window covered in frost
Ignoring those bills again, it isn't that dire,
I mean isn't it Christmas? There shouldn't be a cost,
Putting a price on happiness that you only see on t.v,
Looking at your mortgage, faith in true Christmas spirit is lost,
All you need to get through the day is joy, maybe,
But putting on another smile, because you might as well get through it,
Leaping into the Credit Crunch Christmas spirit!
Lana Del Ray, The Real Barbie Girl.
A seemingly fixed smile behind pastel pink lips,
A body that looks fake with all those curves and dips,
Brown hair all fluffed up at the back,
Those ghostly eyes, what life they lack,
Having all her clothes picked out for her every day,
She's made to speak and act a certain way,
It's not even her real name,
But she was created by others, is she really to blame?
Above and unseen those puppet strings pull,
Who is she really? Pretty witty or dull?
It's quite sad that none of us can really say,
We know the girl behind Lana Del Ray!
We know who she is and we know her name!
She's not just a living doll, she's not at all plain!
We'll never know, we should just wait for those lies to unfurl...
Till then let's stand up and sing along, to the worlds very own Barbie girl!
