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In the back of the hearse
reciting fresh verse
I was sitting and watching him go
he had finally left
but to me it was theft
by some weird and disgusting old pro.
When I last ate his bread
he had said he'd be dead
by the time I would visit him soon,
well the gods took him in
and he went with a grin
and he'd always admired the moon.
So to act as if time
had averted all crime
I now sit at my house and lean back
go to hell and remain
do not tell me you're sane
and above all, I don't need your flack.
We'll unload you my dad
dump you into a sad
and disturbingly lonesome crevasse
let you die there without
your expected home crowd
no one saves your deceiving old ass.
As I looke from afar
at that rusty old car
I have doubts as to getting the loot
no one knew that this would
as all honest things should
but I privately gave not a hoot.
So I told my old Dad
that if only we had
all the tools to prolong his damn life,
we'd have slaved day and night
with that someone who might
save you if not in debt to your wife.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read poems about / on: car, sad, house, moon, home, time, night
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