The Fly I’m half shot at the bar. A tiny visitor lands on the rim Of my glass and makes me think. If you pull the wings of a fly, Then hold it to your ear, Can you hear it screaming? If it slips outta your hand, It could get stuck in your head And might make some changes In your brain. Then you might Get fly-ish and suddenly develop A taste for garbage and dog crap. Freak out the neighbors stickin’ Your head in the trash can and Lickin’ their schnauzer’s ass. You’d be jumpin’ off bar stools Thinkin’ you could fly, end up With a deathly fear of spiders, Tremble at the frog’s croak. It would just be a matter of time ‘Fore the big flyswatter gets ya And you go splat.