The man has you grinding away
The organ makes the monkey dance
You’re looking for the Promised Land
But you never really had the chance
You’re writing your soul on the page
Friends support & love all they heard
But the critics cry foul & laugh bitterly
You’re only as good as your last word
The tyranny of our modern age
The repulsive nature of our exploited rights
Coming for us before the dawn
Another stolen soul in the night
But pump the brakes there Swamp Thing
Florida is basically the Outbreak Monkey
We can’t be too safe these days
Besides, a lot of y’all were already funky
I’ll be hunkered down, away from idiots
This blanket fort is causing me to itch
Stay home, so we can eventually go outside
Like Carole Baskin, the Covid is a bitch
Captain Q 