Crickets
It’s the true off season and there’s no sound to be heard
Except “cricket… cricket… cricket” or the occasional bird
The lines between fantasy and reality seem to be blurred
“WHAT WAS THAT?” Oh, it was just a phantom update I thought I’d heard
Sadly though nay as there’s nothing going down
Besides my spirits and these empty bottles of brown
“HEY! Are you looking at me pal like I’m some kind of clown?”
Alas, even the great Joe Pesci can’t cure me of this frown.
Help us dear friends! How can we cope?
Without turning to things that rhyme with mope?
Daggumit I feel like a useless dope…
Wait…
If the dish ran away with the spoon, does that mean that they eloped?
This ABF isn’t going as I’d hoped
KLUBYE and f*@k the Raiders with fat frozen rope
PS, The little teapot was both steamed up and dope.
