Well since my job was outsourced

Well I found a new place to dwell.

Well It’s down at the end of Witherspoon Street

At Deadbeat Motel.

Where you’ll be

You’ll be there so lonely baby

You’ll be sponging baloney, baby.

You’ll be there so lonely

You could die.

Now the taxmen dress as bellhops

The doorman he’s a fed

I lurk in the shadows from morning till night

And I keep a glock under my bed.

Where you will be

It could make you so lonely, baby

Go pawn that Sony baby

You’ll be so lonely

You could die.

Well the loan sharks have my number

The phone rings off the wall

If them bill collectors don’t drive me to drink

It’s those survey and courtesy calls.

And you’ll think

You’ll think you’re so lonely baby

Hard luck’s your crony baby

You’ll be so lonely

You could die.

Now if your boss is jumpy

Won’t look you in the eye

You better update your resume soon

‘Cause I hear there’s some work in Shanghai.

Where you will be

You’ll be so lonely baby

Sans ceremony baby

You’ll be so lonely

You could die.

Well I used to be a rich man

I gave alms to the poor

And voted for change in 2008

Just be careful of what you wish for.

And think you’re so

And think you’re so lonely baby

Sell that Zamboni baby

You’ll be so lonely

You could die.

Walter, a resident of Morrisville, PA, is a mother, wife, medical biller, and sometime poet. Some of her previous poems in the Summer Fiction issue have been inspired by the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel.

Facebook Comments