I put my half shirt to the test,
I fill my lungs with air just one deep breath and recollect.
Son, you look so young,
like I was that time I found my gallbladder grotesque,
and said you swans go on write songs so long they are definite.
Drown me in the pond,
this is my reflection.
This water makes a mirror good enough.
I don't want to go but I guess I must.
Why can't I put you in a jar,
the shallow prime contenders say that I have gone too far.
I tie the laces of my vest,
impending physics never disinfect the specimen.
Going off the coop, drinking holy water.
I would walk the plank to take the test,
to make you wager on the likelihood of happiness.
Tell me I would be wrong, going up against it.
The neighbors make the tables full enough.
I don't know how to cope but I guess I must.
Why can't I stuff you in a bar,
and make you pay your way to labour day you cannibal.