All The Things

Listening to Popular Creeps
        Because I love the sound of Replacements drumming
That musician can paint but I hate his singing
It's almost as bad as mine

In a calm, well modulated voice
        A man comes on to tell
Just who this has been brought to me by

All those things that he keeps
       Are the things that are most humbling
Like a Santa who keeps the bell ringing
Drunk on turpentine wine

As if any of us actually have a choice
       Between the illusion of heaven or hell
Nothing is real for a seasoned spy