Crawling in formation with murderous shoppers
I could be one of them, too
Froth and foam, far from home, hate all these people...
So what would dear Fezziwig do?
Bastards and bitches take over the highways
I could be one of them, too
Curses fly, road rage high, mired in this traffic...
So what would dear Fezziwig do?
Relatives backbite over a groaning table
I could be one of them, too
Smug faces make home the loneliest of places
So what would dear Fezziwig do?
Some schemer panhandling out there in a snowstorm
I could be one of them, too
Look down, read the paper, close the curtains, curse the liberals...
Well, what would dear Fezziwig do?
© 2006 Melissa Cross. All rights reserved. No part of this piece may be reproduced without the express permission of the author.