The Mustache
I tickle under your nose.
Scratch your girlfriend's face.
Make you look ridiculous at times.
Allow me to grow and let me work.
I am your mustache; I cover your lip.
Trim me down to almost nothing.
You might as well just shave me off.
I don't deserve this misery.
Allow me to grow and let me work.
I am your mustache; I cover your lip.
Your girlfriend hates me; I hate her too.
Her family is always mocking me.
I want to end my life.
Allow me to grow and let me work.
I am your mustache; I cover your lip.
Calender
Write on me in colored pens.
Decorate me with notes.
Use your free time to cover me.
I will keep your schedule organized
Days fly by and still I remain.
Written on and remaning reliable.
Five minutes, ten minutes, it all it takes to use your free time to cover me.
I will keep your life in order.
Hang me me on your bedroom wall,
Displaying the many aspects of your life.
Use your spare minutes to fill me out.
You need me to keep on time.
When the day is over and its time to relax,
Turn my pages and begin to fill me out again.
You need your spare time to systematize me.
I am your calander.
Straw
I sit in the colored bins.
Waiting for you to choose me.
Many hands reach in, I haven't been picked yet.
Black hands, white hands, and tan hands.
Wrinkled hands, aged hands, and young hands.
All different, telling a new story.
I sit in the colored bins.
Wishing for my turn.
When will someone pick me?
Many faces come in and out.
White faces, black faces, and tan faces.
All different, telling a new story.
I sit in the colored bins.
Still wanting to be picked.
Will my day ever come?
The city lights begin to dim outside.
The store begins to close.
Business slows, and another day ends.
I sit in the colored bins.
Today, not getting my turn.
Maybe tomorrow I'll get my turn.
Until then I will remain in the bin.
No one seems to ever want me,
The striped straw, in the Wendy's utensil bin.
I tickle under your nose.
Scratch your girlfriend's face.
Make you look ridiculous at times.
Allow me to grow and let me work.
I am your mustache; I cover your lip.
Trim me down to almost nothing.
You might as well just shave me off.
I don't deserve this misery.
Allow me to grow and let me work.
I am your mustache; I cover your lip.
Your girlfriend hates me; I hate her too.
Her family is always mocking me.
I want to end my life.
Allow me to grow and let me work.
I am your mustache; I cover your lip.
Calender
Write on me in colored pens.
Decorate me with notes.
Use your free time to cover me.
I will keep your schedule organized
Days fly by and still I remain.
Written on and remaning reliable.
Five minutes, ten minutes, it all it takes to use your free time to cover me.
I will keep your life in order.
Hang me me on your bedroom wall,
Displaying the many aspects of your life.
Use your spare minutes to fill me out.
You need me to keep on time.
When the day is over and its time to relax,
Turn my pages and begin to fill me out again.
You need your spare time to systematize me.
I am your calander.
Straw
I sit in the colored bins.
Waiting for you to choose me.
Many hands reach in, I haven't been picked yet.
Black hands, white hands, and tan hands.
Wrinkled hands, aged hands, and young hands.
All different, telling a new story.
I sit in the colored bins.
Wishing for my turn.
When will someone pick me?
Many faces come in and out.
White faces, black faces, and tan faces.
All different, telling a new story.
I sit in the colored bins.
Still wanting to be picked.
Will my day ever come?
The city lights begin to dim outside.
The store begins to close.
Business slows, and another day ends.
I sit in the colored bins.
Today, not getting my turn.
Maybe tomorrow I'll get my turn.
Until then I will remain in the bin.
No one seems to ever want me,
The striped straw, in the Wendy's utensil bin.