When it looks hopeless
'cause my back's in screaming pain
and I'm running on three hours of sleep
and The Baby's screaming
and The Kid's whining
and the neighborhood dogs bark
little shits,
all I can imagine is
beatiful
quiet
dead
dogs
strewn about the neighborhood
it takes the Trite Cake
when I say
that what fixes it all
is reading to The Kid
about how the little boy
shot the Nightmare In His Closet
and yelled at it to stop crying
and dragged it to bed with him
to shut it up.
And The Kid's tears clear up
and he smiles.
That's all it takes
to save the neighborhood dogs
from a silenced .22.
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