Thunder Pants

Too bad I was your Rembrandt in waiting
Though you sensed you were Ms Convenience
So many days in a chamber debating
Instead of between sheets of Salinas

There you go again
Mount Vesuvius – in your hands
Manufacturing pain
Emphatically – Thunder Pants
(your cross you bear is burning dangerously near)
(Here seeking comfort from anxiety wizened)

So soon the ejector seat after the thrill
Brings the acid to the back of your teeth
You can’t let it go like a Janice girl
So it’s almost time to lay a wreath

A rational man would cut you dead
But testosterone makes fools of the best

Sometimes it seems that you’re talking nice
But I know it’s the crack end of the bench
It’s a midday roast and my tongue is dry
Anticipating that rapier sledge

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