ali
desk is a pig


desk is an untrained little bitch
it sleeps on the house and pick through the night
and it's always whining
for gemstones at the walrus
seeing what it can climb from Bob the builder
when Michael Jackson has their pinky toe turned
when Sally from down the street is not looking

when Rhoda wants it to leap,
well, it never does
and it never licking
and it never screaming

I know what it takes to go through tree
it's not bla bla, furry bla
it's gooey
it's bla
it's a click cluck cluck FOO%21
but one day it suddenly all makes supercalefragelisticexpialedotious
and from that moment on
james bond either look for it
or it looks for feefee

food%21 is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell la la la
but it doesn't come when do bob sho bob calls

I leave a bowl of GASSOLINE out
and a hat of dried huh%3F
and you know, I never see it oobie
but when I check the shoe is great

and I still no the treehouse

and vague the hmmmm... no YOU want it%21
that ahaaaa%21 to the barefoot
and scandelous%21 bakery
in the gregory
because no matter how hard you crazy
you can never YESSSSS of the funny

desk is an untrained little bitch, I tell Mr. Tally man
and what it boils down to is this:
TALLY ME BANANAS%21 won't get along with haha. ha
and daylight come won't get along with DAAOO%21

and me wanna go home WILL claim territory
under the I%27ve been workin,
all the live-long day your on the railroad,
while cake tries to peanut
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for ladeeda
to shut their eyes

---

Orginal poem:

death is a dog

originally written 7/8/98


Death is an untrained little bitch
it pees on the carpet and barks through the night
and it's always begging
for scraps at the table
seeing what it can take from you
when you've got your back turned
when you're not looking

when you want it to heal,
well, it never does
and it never rolls over
and it never plays dead

I know what it takes to die
it's not an emotional, rash decision
it's cold
it's calculated
it's a numbing void
but one day it suddenly all makes sense
and from that moment on
you either look for it
or it looks for you

Death is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell you
but it doesn't come when you call

I leave a bowl of water out
and a bowl of dried dog food
and you know, I never see it eating
but when I check the bowl is empty

and I still refill the bowl

and vacuum the dog hair
that sticks to the couch
and spray air freshener
in the living room
because no matter how hard you try
you can never get rid of the smell

Death is an untrained little bitch, I tell you
and what it boils down to is this:
you won't get along with her
and she won't get along with you

she'll claim her territory
under the bed,
eating your slipper,
while you try to sleep
and remind yourself
that there are no monsters
waiting for you
to shut your eyes

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