Simon Says

[Delta40]

Simon says we're
Past the age
Of lost causes
Chokes on his bong
Then pauses
As I let laughter
Run into tears
Then swallow
My dwindling hope
Is he mad or sane?
Replenish the dope
He wields scissors
Hacking up buds
Like never before
Telling me his Dad
Was so like that in '64
'He buried my innocence
Under freshly turned soil!'
Oops! There goes a finger
And his blood starts to boil.
Simon shouts it's nothing
Let's dance
We must have children too
Join hands in the lounge
And swear to be true
Do you think
My smile
Will mask the real
And dangerous fear?
Jesus what a familiar smell
Year after f ucking year
That insidious hand of life
Stalkers, psychos, strife
He thanks the Lord
For compost where
All things fowl
Will fly through the air
And screams 'Media Media
It's an assault on my mind!'
I tiptoe the course
Taking note of the signs
Cups go there
Brushes in a line
Scrub those hands
We'll all be fine
In the morning
Simon says an exploding
Egg bound chicken
Is just not worthy of him
He drapes me in plastic
To pop it in the bin.

[YesNo]

It sounds like Simon was not Mr Right.

[Delta40]

Lol. That's certainly one way of looking at it!