Every night the same thief—
I lie awake waiting for him.
I have a stout club with his name on it.
Well, O.K., it’s a stick.
Well, really it’s a rooster that never moves.
And what good is that?
The thief steals in & leaves me with out.
He takes my radio & leaves me with the static.
Nothing but a full bladder can save me—
but by then I want nothing more
than to relax my grip.

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