8/8/2019 After Seahawks Win 9-12

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After Seahawks Win (9/12)

By Andrew Knox

I.Woke up Sunday morning, still pained from last night,

Get up, Man up, Don't give up the fight.

Twenty minute shower, licking my wounds,Somehow got on the bad side of Prosperity's goons,

Arpeggiate the Archipelago,They demand, but I don't follow,

“Buddy, let's do Battle of the Bands this year, we're a shoe in,

Here's a Bass, put your fingers here and here,

And let's pretend to know what we're doing!”

“I would if I could, but I can't...

I gotta water these chickens, and feed this plant!”So I was freed from my social obligations with a little white lie,

Sigh... can't skip them all...Sunday morning, coming down, working Football.

Evangelical Stadium, the Pigskin Church,

Fed up with the world, Craigslist Job Search,

II.

A sea of jerseys with dollar signs for heads,

Yellow jacket staff, stiffer security than the feds,I don't bleed red, my blood dries clear,

Gladiator games, green grass and beer.

Odd side, the skyline, Cessna in the skies,

Win or lose, motherfuck them ties,

Sports aren't about fun, it's all big business,Price is Right Showcase of their physical phitness.

And I'm a witness, some sailor waves at me,

And the mob rushing past never rents when they ski,And where's the sun? Seattle was born under a cloud.

It's opening day, Sunday, 60,000 proud.

Plane pulling poster: “Saving Is Easy”

Life is easy, but work makes me queasy,

So, Tums ride shotgun, old people at the transit center,Limo with flags, and two checked bags, I must meet my mentor,

It's been weeks, maybe months, maybe more.At least I oughta slip a rap sheet under Sciarrone's door 

8/8/2019 After Seahawks Win 9-12

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III.

Gothic arches, hospital white tile,

Somebody else's clown shoes, walkin' my mile.

What do we do with a thousand drunken sailors?Mariners Spring Training, replace these failures.

Aches in my feet, lasers out my eyes,Growin' out my goatee, I wanna look wise.

I'm Endless, I'm Nameless, fuck it, I'm Faceless,

So I publish an empty book, and still the critics call me tasteless!

I'm hardly a menace,

Only thing my shoes good at is tennis.

But I'm not, blame my coordination,and I'd miss any train before it pulls out the station.

My name is anxiety, but you can call me ball of stress,My PC's desktop is immaculate, my room is a mess,

70's transit center pagoda, broken TV screens,

Spoken-for blonde girls wearing flattering jeans...

Dropped their keys, bent their knees,

Love America, wish she was single, but she's-- Taken.So, it's back to the lab, clean the glass and start the baking.

IV.

Excuse me while I light my bong,I got the same grass as Cheech n Chong.

Excuse me while I light my bong,

 Non-toxic, non-addictive, so what's so wrong?

Excuse me while I spark my blunt,

Puff puff pass and forget that c***.Excuse me while I roast my joint,

Clinton didn't inhale, what the fuck's the point?

I bounce like rubbers from a British Vending Machine,My checking account fills my stomach then leaves my creditors lean.

I feed 'em like Oregon Trail Kids... BARE BONES!

Don't come a knockin' if this wagon rocks and moans.

Lake City Way, Avenue of Franchises With a Beat,

Wendy's, Starbuck's, Smokeshop, copy/paste/repeat.Avenue of Arbor and Body Armor,

Where dreams die and strip clubs become martyrs.