New Stuff for the Sun

Everything is tangible beneath the dying sun
Even hippies bought their vinyl and their wagon homes
I’ve spent my time chasing faded jeans and thrown my poems in jars
I can build some new stuff for the bleeding sun

I haven’t known my Uncle Scrooge since his collar was teal
He threw down Sears dolls for real Mattel ones, wherever they did roam
By the time he had his outfit bleached, he’d a queen and king-sized home
He and I can build some new stuff for the bleeding sun

I’ve for years not been accustomed to the higher grass
Sucked in by celebrities, I stared for days until I gasped
“Why is she so haughty?” A reply: “Her parents own the town”
She and I can build some new stuff for the bleeding sun

Sexual harassment is easier done than said
I’m no Casanova, and I won’t drag her in my web
I’m sophisticated, and that’s a word which diamonds label her
Why should I let her build new stuff for the sun?

She’ll lose all her parents’ green once men bankrupt her
Strong and clueless manly men, upper class like her
When she knocks thrice on my doorbell, I’ll laugh and let her down
“I’ve already finished building an intangible sun”

Uncle Scrooge’s company now considers him a quack
His three children are all spoiled, suicidal with envy
There’s not a dot of happiness inside that thick mansion
Shame on you greedy tycoons under for blocking out the sun!

Everything is tangible beneath the dying sun
Even homeless got their whiskey and their cardboard homes
I’ve spent too long chasing children’s dreams and thrown my poems in jars
Which is why I finished building an intangible sun.

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