Pop Can
I am round and I am whole
Trash and art to look the part
In a 4x at a kmart park
n lot-s of things make up this scene
It's poor and it's grit, but it ain't no dream,
It's the life stealing high feeling pay for what we're not revealing love story turned tragedy
Trailer trash
Welcome to my world said the man as you came into his dad's pop can
This is where the magic happens ( the paint is pealed, the plasters cracking
The weathered chairs have lost there backing.)
This is where we eat our sup' (And somethings up You see but God do you not touch, a residential garage sale, it looks as much like that or this and smells like piss it's everything we must forget and even in our pity's sake we can't forgive it, how could a family live it, how could someone live in this?)
And my daughter and sons (Well we've all made fun, we've seen them in the schoolyards sun, and if they didn't fit in there should we go to hell that this seems their place in life, should we run away since this is the place that made what we have never wanted to understand? Were we supposed to comprehend? I don't, I think I never did, If I could unsee how it is they live. Those one's who don't fit in, in life, it's there's to bare and if I stopped to share that weight then I would go nowhere We're here, and they're there, and that's just life, I never said it was fair, All I'll say is struggles don't compare from high to low living in a beat-up pop-can.
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