i could kill the Atlantic

guerrillas in the trees
presumably on their knees
wondering what more to do
painting the town red, white, and blue
and hide-and-seek,
gambling for the weak.
was it really for a year?
i see no one coming near
the staccato of a shout
kept me looking round about
and i intended to see
someone else looking out for me
but she might have been shy
i never understood why
in Monte Carlo
i wanted to play bingo
and ended up broke
so that's what i wrote
at the end of the final game
there was no one to blame
a scenario
said the impresario
before he fled the casino
leaving me high and dry
i never understood why
i could have killed the choreography
but that's not really me
i know i could kill the Atlantic
but that's not really romantic
so i hummed
and strummed
and drew
because what i knew
when afflicted with a bout of angina
was how to reassemble a vagina
and the girl is down the hall
it's past time for me to call
when she hears me this early in the season
i won't need a reason
she won't ask for any whys
when i come visiting between her thighs.