cIthink: August 2015

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Angry Joe. August 2015

Listen my friend I’ll tell you

A gal who’s in labor a week or two,

Gave birth to a baby no one knew what to call.

I met this guy some summer or maybe it was fall.

She named the baby Joseph but the moniker she chose,

Extended at the circus, that kid punched that old clown’s nose.

Angry Joe. Angry Joe, Angry Joe, Angry Joe.

His mother bought an art set and told the kid to paint

She thought the little tiger could be tamed.

The focus was artistic but he was not a saint.

He spent each canvas earning his new name.

His teacher said his art was angry,

He always draws the skull in every face

He painted every second of every single day,

dropped his friends. They lost the pace.

Angry Joe, Angry Joe. Angry Joe. Angry Joe.

He has a calm demeanor he never seems to curse

But there’s still something so angry in his art.

They took him to a doctor; I met his x-ray nurse

She told me that he has an angry heart.

If you ever meet a peaceful guy named Joseph,

Be careful ‘cause you never know beneath.

That guy who doesn’t rest, has a secret vest

He’ll paint you from a brush that’s in his sheath.

Angry Joe. Angry Joe, Angry Joe. Angry Joe.

If you ever get interested in summer,

Just hope that autumn lets you go.

If winter let’s you sing and you make it into spring.

Or he’ll paint your casket, Angry Joe.

Angry Joe. Angry Joe, Angry Joe. Angry Joe.

Friday, August 7, 2015

cIthink