doodled myth of man

We saw it all through a cracked-up crystal ball

Cigarette tar. Crystal meth.

Pipe dreams of bluffing death

We asked for the over-under on us getting by

While holding our ears to an asphalt sky

Where we heard the echoed reply

Saying that our odds are roughly 9 to 5

until the day we die

I saw this scribbled and scratched on the left wall

of an aluminum bathroom stall

this penned epic about the modern man

left next to the toilet paper and crushed-up soda can

if life imitates art

as they say

then someone has been doodling away

pictures of turds floating in the sky