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Wasting all my caffeine hours
Neglecting what you might call my powers
Some time is lent, some pissed away
But mine is spent on cold hard pay.

No time for sun or distant clime,
No time for song or hazy skies.
When day is done and all is said
Just time enough to rest my head.

Open up a wormhole to the multiverse
Leak a bit of time in from where no one would notice

Steal some time from some Wall Street bore
And soak in the rays on Glasto Tor.
Thieve a spell from some ad firm fibber
And drift along the Yangtze River.

Someone once said businessmen don’t read fiction.
That’s because businessmen don’t get paid for the size of their diction.

Pilfer some hours from some broker louse
And peruse the collected works of Wodehouse
Take a few days from some tabloid snake
And watch the sun sink into Ha Long Bay.

Just find a single wormhole to some universe
Where wastrels piss the time away by the hogshead barrel every day.

Though I swear there’s a wormhole at the bottom of this mug.
Cut. Cut.— I’m all out of coffee, here.


from Coffee, Ale, and Southumbrian Tales, released September 10, 2015
Music & lyrics: Joel Violette



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OAT New Brunswick

Folkened acoustic rock from the Maritimes.

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