Small Town

Small Town
We have jumble sales
Funds raised for funds
We drink gallons of beetroot juice
When beetroot harvest comes
We piss blood red to frighten the old ladies
Ghost stories at night
Real spooks in the day
Sing songs to a five string
Out of tune guitar
Usually with the wrong lyrics
Sing songs around a tree
Strung by a lynch mob
We wait once a month
For the prison bus
Taking prisoners on transfer
To the corrections facility
We jeer and taunt them
Knowing full well if they could
Get us we would be dead
But the real crime is gossip
We trade and practice
Vicious cruеl lies
Our gossip destroys
Slowly like a cancеr
No real blood here
Every one a cousin in this small town
This small five string guitar town
This small town