this is a kind of Bukowski inspired diatribe that i wrote based on my own personal experiences and observations...its called
A Flat Tire On The Fourth Of July
its not the major tragic events in life
A Flat Tire On The Fourth Of July
its not the major tragic events in life
that drive someone to decide to call it quits and cash in their chips
its the little things
the constant petty annoyances
and daily blunders
the consistent stream of accidents
and mishaps
that slowly eat away at the soul
and poison a persons perspective
like a galactic practical joke called life
and the punchline is
eventually everybody punches out
a flat tire on the fourth of July
gum on the bottom of your shoe
expired tags
the package you ordered never arrives
toothaches, headaches, backaches
no brakes on the way to work
no work
on the way to the poorhouse
a hole in your favorite t shirt
your last guitar string breaks
on the first note
of the first song
and you're the first band on stage
the aggravation builds up inside
and without a way to relieve the tension
the hope for tomorrow dies
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