modern day noam

put away your pen you modern day chomski.
i think noam would have something to say.
i hate the way you do what you do.
you drink to excess.
there's a ring of whiskey on the table.
you smoke too damn much.
there's a pile of ashes on the table.
are those ashes burned off cigarettes,
or are those the people that you murdered?
you threw them in the furnace, and forgot about them.
with the whiskey on your breath,
put away your dirty pen.
sweep the ashes under the table before you write again.
you kill, and you cuss.
you write what you must.
when the rain's coming down on the roof of your shack,
doing that skip, rip, boom, thing that tin does sometimes,
drink some whiskey.
things will turn brighter.
here's a smoke, and a brand-new lighter.
write me a story all about how you heal.
all about how you feel.
i want to hear about how you tied up noam,
and threw his tired ass in the furnace.
your apartment is auschwitz, and the ashes pile up.
just write me a story full of whiskey and smoke.
throw in a whole lot of things that may cause me to choke.
if the river flows whiskey, and the sky billows gray,
i will come home on saturday.