Blackest Friday

The thick red sauce disguised as sweet strawberry
Like fool's gold was just made of fresh picked cranberry
But with little time to prepare you dressed him in a hurry
Before Thanksgiving Day you fattened up the turkey
To be sure that when you severed off his rolling head
He could not run or fly away before you carved him up undead
I should have seen it coming when I heard the little boy adrumming
Thinking something wonderful was about to start the harps astrumming
But the drumsticks were my own legs being cut out from under
And the song I thought I heard was just the echo of distant thunder
The momentary hope I held was just God messing with my head
I am nothing now and I'm going back to pretend I'm really dead
Back under the goddam rock I was never meant to crawl out from under
Let no one disturb me ever again, I'm falling in to my eternal slumber
I don't want to ever feel anything that might inspire a poem
So this will be my epitaph and I'll go back to being loved by no one