People people people hiding in metal cacoons
rolling rolling rolling all around most afternoons
& they’re lying down inside refrigerated tombs
dozing infront of TVs that turn them into goons.
I met an Egyptian goddess in the tumbleweeds
she pushed me down, made me her wanton slave
the pretty ancient disappeared in a puff of dust
I sit in front of a pyramid now a wanting to misbehave.
All the people sneek around behind tinted windows
I stick a thumb out, they lock their flying-by doors
I walk ’til I’m dead as they pay oodles for a private ride
as they build acres of parking lot & bigger dumber stores.
So now I sit in the sand infront of The Lost Goddess Pyramid
awaiting a swirl of dust to do what the last one did
numerous trains roll by, a chunk of stone falls off my nose
buried beneath a footprint & a trumbone blows…
(Copyright Clyde Collins 2011)