Ripping out pages
As I write these down
Better swim to shore
Before you drown
This isn’t the place
For the likes of you
A filthy bastard
Set adrift, it’s true
But be grateful
With me to thank
For the boys here
Wanted you upon the plank
I don’t have an accent
I don’t have millions in the bank
Yet, you find my words delightful
I’m flattered & furiously thank
With the inmates running the asylum
The cavernous tunnels are cold & dank
It can be difficult to remember the faces
The ones who put you here, the ones to thank
But we’re not twiddling our thumbs at night
We’re sharpening our words for vengeful retort
You think we’re numbed & harmless fools
Our bunker: in the guise of a blanket fort
Captain Q 