I hope you don't mind that I put you in the song, Poppa. One worries.
Selfie In Place
I just wanted to take the time to say Hey--
I’m healthy and working and doing OK
No sign of the virus, no fever, no cough
I haven’t been furloughed, still not laid off.
I’m inside all day working, which I know’s not unique
I walk the dog once a day and I shop once a week.
I cook dinner most nights, then I read or hang out
I’m trying to quit drinking, it’s bringing on the gout.
I wanted to write you a quarantine song
How we’re all in this together and need to stand strong
A song full of uplift and affirmation
Or a blues about being lonely in isolation
Or something putting down fools who won’t stay six feet apart
Something clever and fun, inspiring and smart
But I can’t, man. I can’t. Whenever I do
Just sounds hokey, cliché and untrue.
If I get the flu and am laid up in bed
It won’t be much fun but it beats being dead
I worry abut my dad, he’s now 89
Younger than Lee Konitz but much older than John Prine
And my friend James who had surgery last year
They took out his teeth and then took off his ear
If he gets sick he’ll die, which he says he’s not scared of
He just has some shit he was hoping to take care of
Even if we flatten the curve out and all
The virus will probably be back in the fall
There’ll be fires in the summer, and universal depression
Things may just get worse with the November election.
A vaccine might be ready in 2021
I can’t imagine myself or the world when it’s done.
Well, when it’s over let’s get wasted like Noah after the flood
‘Til then
I’m as ever
Your friend,
Mister Blood
