Somebody once told me the world was guacamole

and the stars were made of dime store glitter.

That somebody was a drunk, a silly and mean old skunk.

He was bravely and firmly bitter.

He talked back to his wife and wasted away his life

he was a pessimist to the core.

All day long he asked for a little more as he complained about the score

He was always a good for nothing bore.

Last night someone broke down my door

And said; Neon men had better hit the floor.

Some stars are falling down and striking this old town.

Come on, come on get out of bed

It’d be safer to touch knee to forehead.

The stars set fire to the barns

The hills, the restaurants and the farms.

It spread until most were already dead.

Star storms were rare in those days

So most didn’t know what to do or say.

But that old and weary drunk

Wove through all the apocalyptic funk

and waved his hand madly at the sky.

Babes and mums began to cry

And fathers wished that they could fly

Their families and their kin away.

No one heard what that old drunk said that day

But it must have been good because

All the stars turned into fuzz.

He’d been right all along.

Next day; Singin’ the same old song

That old drunk whose name was Tom

Was suddenly the bomb

Ready for each brand new day.

Every so often he still will say;

The world’s made of guacamole and

Stars are dime store glitter, only.

But now he adds something to the end,

While wearing a smug little grin;

Even if it’s guacamole and

You can’t hear the holy

When stars are made of real cheap fuzz

And all you do is drink and cuss

Remember that it’s still worth livin’

These may not be the only gifts you’re given.