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.
