I sometimes have these notions. Thoughts I try to rearrange.

Some of those odd art types, seem to me to be so strange.

Down at the bus stop, I hear some of them as they scream.

At the passing shining Tesla’s, that they can only dream.

They smoke and scowl and drink some more, down at the local ‘Booth.’

Bouncing cheques and complaining; an all round waste of youth.

I have all this notion, that they say is in my head.

If I be spitting and exsplaining, then it’s better there than said.

I have all these notions. They keep rolling in my brain.

I never saw them coming. And for some I can’t explain.