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Pass the Pigs


Don't Call Me Corky


i see a little puppy silhouette-o
of the dog residing in my mind's ghetto
dada dream scadamuch scadamuch
who knows what this means in my mind
i've seen kung-fu bad dog
he swallowed one of his own poo-poos
i wallowed in misery ward faculty choke
out my best friend's memories broke
but their carbon vision i called a joke
the d.o.g. you try to squash but i still see
idea in my mind
stronger than the whole of matter based reality
i don't want to shout like turrets
i spit it out i hear them laugh at my bus stop
even gawk when i buy imports at their record shop
don't want to go and hear them talk of rehashed hurt
in love songs as if hurt is what they even know

my dog
long lost friend
sometimes he snaps at me
but why do you call me corky

kung-fu not just in my brain
don't you hear him out there barking in the rain
didn't you just tell me to lock him up
i'll perfectly describe that pup
eyes that bulge like salty sailor
staring at stag magazine
that mouth is foamy
but he's not mean

my dog
long lost friend
sometimes he snaps at me
but why do you call me corky


my dog eats but he's not porky
the neighborhood kids say my name is corky
but un-uh that's not what it is
i say thank you very much if it's the same to you
rather be referred to as mister or maybe master of kung-fu
chases his tail like he's doing a jig
i bet i scoop his crap and that's all the thanks i get
in the park i feel proud mouth that foams attracts a crowd
c'mon pilgrim blaring loud you say i'm mental but i'm unbowed
i picture him with well groomed hair
in my mind he's always there
imaginary friend no one can see
i don't care what you say
he's real to me