There a pounding in my head,
a rumbling in my stomach.
Somethings in my bed.
and it's no unemployment check.
It really dark in here,
and I haven't a clue as to why,
I may not know where,
but I know I'm not under the sky.
It stinks of rotten cheese,
and smells of moldy bread,
I think I heard something wheeze,
and I'm pretty sure something's dead.
I wonder what happened,
to put me in this place,
Where wings were flappined,
as if something was in a race.
I think I'm getting weak,
for I'm making up some words,
and I'm hearing the building creak,
with the sounds of vicious birds.
I guess I'll never know,
where the witch wickeder grass grows,
where the sound of the wind blows,
and tickles the tips of your toes.
Mind telling people where I am,
so they can find a piece of me,
or better yet find me alive with a yam,
I'll thank you by buying you a tree.
What you say?
You're here with me?
It can't be that way,
You brought me my tea.