Piggyback

You’re clearly trying to change this subject,
naturally off of your sorry track record,
glaringly bright across your two-faced-lift,
atop that frightfully leaning crane,
spraying chunks of mental in all directions.

We’ve been here before as children once,
but while most of us have moved long past,
this has become your golden prison cell,
except bread and water are for them faithful,
as you chow down on stakes in your heart.

The compass says you’re on a wrong path,
so you just brashly kick it to the curb,
where it’ll shut its nasty mouth for good,
or at least be far out of hearing from now on,
leaving us to your mindlessly subversive tactics.

Let’s really slow it down here for its passion,
after all, there can’t be anything missing,
I sure don’t mind going to church every day,
if they are willing to share their open bar,
then we will both pass our collection plates.

Now make a complete stop on the freeway,
please don’t hit me unless you’re crazy,
driving the rest to whatever must be a waste,
valued to simple fools working for a living,
because they don’t have self-love and courage.