Haikus From Th' Road

Can we not argue
About what you're paying me
It is 4 AM.

I regret to in
Form you that the song you want
Will not be played now.

The patrol cars there
In the parking lot, my friend
Let's load out slowly.

I will tell your wife
If you go in there with her
I do not like lies.





No, we will not play
Anything by Depeche Mode
Put your drugs away.

I have cut my hand
Upon the side of my Rhodes
Quick- apply Patrone.

There is nothing I
Would not give right now to be
Away from this place

The dream of music
A perfect chord struck firmly
The smell of urine.

It is not my fault
That you have drunk so freely
And have made nothing.

I feel just like Sting
When you vomit your dinner
During the chorus