The Intercollegiate Literary Magazine

Flea Brained Fool

I’ve become a flea brained, flea brain, flea brained
I’ve become a tree brained, flea brained fool

So up and down the carousel my knee will swell
A blinging bell
A parchment paper pleading well
I wake up in the morning
The morning there I sit and stare
The sirens blare
My heart ain’t there
I waste away and feel the glare
Of ancient people snoring

The graveyard is a home for thee
Who waste away and fail to see
That life is lived behind the bars
Of stationary toiling

So up and down my foot will frown
And tap the ground and make a sound
To let my mind just find the time
To find a rhyme
O never mind.