Saturday, May 23, 2009

"Room service? Send up a larger room."

We used to be crazy, insane, remember?
I would never play the piano;
But you would always hit me, bonk.
Boing. Blam.

We were brothers then and I wish that we would be still, like that.
Nuts. Insane and detached.
I am going to the beach tomorrow, Wreck Beach.
I'll buy and eat whichever drugs I can, it's summer, you know.
Naked, too.

Where are you, brothers?

I acted like Harpo and played the harp, silent.
You hit me but I flinched not.
Except for the dirty, loud look I gave you you.
Goofing, I still looked at you hard.

But really I cried, and I can't play the harp.
I wept for the days long gone and the trouble we made.

Remember being insane? Loving all those girls?
We had it, then, brothers, life by the balls.

I miss it and I miss you, my mortgaged friends.

If you ever need escape, well, here I am.

-Love Sid

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