nothing up your sleeve

3 little pigs
and a black knight
on television
where there's static from a passing car:
who do you think you are?
changing channels like used underwear
from red to blue
wondering on a fine Sunday morning
what to do
if in an emergency the glass is broken
and you're looking for another subway token
but it's not in your pants,
it might be your last chance
before the clock strikes twelve.
what to do when the game is called?
if your room is papered with cheap confetti
and your head is walled
there's nothing to see on the far side
no where to run
no where to hide
you've held out hope
wrapped in a stiff cardboard box;
the little pigs found a way
to break the locks
they're playing you for a fool
you're trying to play it cool
they're heading for the barnyard with a grin
you momentarily tie the score
but know you'll never win;
smoke is fouling the surrounding air
it's not fit to breath
there's nothing you can do to save the day
you've got nothing up your sleeve:
bread crumbs are passing around in refugee camps
while you're reading by polished Tiffany lamps
dressed in mother's perfume
eyeing the throne room
there's nothing to see on the far side
no where to run
no where to hide
you've held out hope
wrapped in a stiff cardboard box
the little pigs found a way
to break the locks
they're playing you for a fool
you're trying to play it cool
they're heading for the barnyard with a grin
you momentarily tie the score
but know you'll never win
smoke is fouling the surrounding air
it's not fit to breath
there's nothing you can do to save the day
you've got nothing up your sleeve:
bread crumbs are passing around in refugee camps
while you're reading by polished Tiffany lamps
dressed in mother's perfume
eyeing the throne room
there's nothing to see on the far side
no where to run
no where to hide.