Not About Life: a Ripoff

The morning blues
before now soothes
all the nicotine breaths and merely stares up yours
And nowadays’ lesson’s about how sure
you are to know if you’re the third policeman

but does it not scale to be truer
that my time is smithereens-clicking of an automaton
It’s not that I reckon
to be wide awake, for any more resolutions,
and just enough to retch
while I fetch
your dismal decisive approximations

Rapport, once married with Regard
bore children of tomorrow and now they’re just talking backward
I date a mardy Frown,
now are you smiling a tart one,
drinking your wine as your eyes turn white

for does it seem much truer
that time is just a sick in the head sort of various burlesque
It’s not that you asked,
to be here for the getaway, sweet enough to sting
or to depart, or to linger
in a sugarsweetbitterthrill...

...well enough that it’s not about the life
because you don’t have one
Actually you keep on your purple prose
since it’s not about my life
because I don’t have one
Honestly I just keep on my woes
when all I do is to keep losing purpose

Oh is this holiday in hideaway, well I don’t want to stay
That’s what I carry on with when I’m clockwatching
Adjust the hands, maybe I’d stay
That’s what I said when I was singing
my morning blues
It just scales truer because I only dream ahead with my sour words
But I could amend just as much
Take on the time that I think I stole,
stack it up with what I choose,
pass on the morning blues
and abscond the third policeman
because this is not his life
because he doesn’t have one
He just keeps on telling time
since it’s about my life
and I don’t have one
Honestly I just keep on what is mine
when what I’d do is to keep on what I have