I've seen all his hair, man.I was doin' my work inside the guild folie a troiswhen along came a Jar'd with a tall pom-mo-haw'"If you're staying at folie a trois, Rick, my face you should know."And so I offered a grin and then I decided to go.He asked me if I'd seen hairdos so fine and to his hair a hand,and I said, "Listen, I've seen every Jar-Hair in this here land...!"I've seen every hair man.I've seen every hair man.Seen them everywhere man,In concert fan-fair, man.Of Jar'd-dos I've had my share, man.I've seen every hair...I've seen em:Brownpoof, curlyback, straight down, short bangs black hair,brown pushed up, albino, black/blonde, creepy mullet,long-blonde-brown, braided, blondeblack long, straight long blondetadark,girly, long an' brown, shaved buzzcut, short an' manly,emo, black and red, long dark brown, straight brown yellow,pony tail, facial hair, blonde dark roots, have a hoot.I've seen every hair man.I've seen every hair man.Seen them everywhere man,In concert fan-fair, man.Of Ja
Dear Mr. PresidentDear Mr. President,I am an American. But you knew that. You know all Americans. Well, at least you say you do. Can you truly know your people when you sit in an office in a far away land? You might not think its very far away, but it seems that way to the citizens. Did you know Lincoln used to answer the door when someone knocked? Now? Now we would be shot after being placed under surveillance.Does this show you how much the world has changed, Mr. President? Are you aware of the violence that lives within the streets and alleyways? Of course you are. The service protects you from it. But what do you do about this violence, I ask. Do you not leave it to the police force and expect results? Do you get results? Dont bother answering that question, because I know the answer is probably no. I doubt you want to hear that, Mr. President.Do you realize that violence occurs every day? Do you realize it wont be stopped? I hope you do, Mr. President, for it will always contin
I, TooI, Too, Sing America.Yet it is Ithat is off fighting your war.TodayI face the smile of Death.And yet it is I,still holding your gunin a war,fighting for something none of usbelieve.It is my gunthat singsAmerica, home of the brave.And you sitsmiling at your friends in the safetyof your own homeBut we continue to fight.We will continuefor you, America.And we continue to holdour colors, with pride.And when we come home,if we do,You will greet us with a smile,and you will offer your handwith a shakeand a false face.And while our mothers weepyou share no tears.But you will realize,when I'm dead,thatI, too, am America.
The Small Box in the AtticSometimes I like to think Im a detective. I like to snoop, I like to learn and see, and I like to explore anything and everything I can get to. Most of the time everything goes okay, but sometimes I dont like what I find.I found my Grandpas will once. In a secret drawer compartment located in the top of my daddys dresser. I think it made me cry.And once I listened to a phone conversation my mommy was having with someone she knew from work. Ill tell you that I never listened to another phone conversation, because thats how I knew about my baby brother before my mom felt it necessary to tell me.After my phone days were over, I took to exploring the woods behind my house. I used to play war with all the other boys in the neighborhood. I still win every time, even if Im a girl. But now I use paintball guns. No more sticks and Red Riders.And Ill tell you that Ive always liked war. That probably sounds mean and stupid, but I do. I thi
I keep trying.Your hands were like sandpaper but theyshaped my fingers into pretty shapes. It was oddto think your hair was real when it felt so plasticbeneath your yellow hat. You liked to yellbut so did I. Your face was a broken mirrorone that I found much more beautiful thana normal one. I told you I was in love and youtold me I was stupid.I liked to dance in old houses because they mademe feel more new. You thought I was youngand silly because I kept doing puzzles that didn'thave all of the pieces. I broke your favoritemask and you didn't look at me until I wascovered in red nail polish and sulfur. I neverdid clean up that coffee stain. I told you I washappy and you told me I was dead.It was easier to run with scissors in my hands than itwas to go without. You're always saying quotesby dead people and it made me think you forgotyou were alive. I wasn't good at piano but myhands liked the feel of the keys. You were my favoritecharacter but you kept going down the wrongpath.