Petra

Who needs a shrink, when a lover somehow, always wants a drink, one day he might stroll, in the village like a clown, others times rotten lie low, I know what they think, he’ll always miss the furrow, his head down a sink, a display all his own, show them what he’s sown, outrage now he’s gone, I teeter on the brink, a whole investment blown, work and strain and stink, who will want me now, face like an ice rink, heavy as a cow, my politics dull pink, sweat shines on my brow, get away don’t think, I sail above the scarecrows.