Aluminum Can (The Ditty Bops)

Crush me down An aluminum can Poke me with a fork and half baked yam Toss me in the frying pan I would never bite the hand If I could be sure the hand that feeds me Feeding frenzy on prescription words Swallowing the silence that returns Falling in footsteps petrified by time Under madness are familiar faces And you are just a semblance of before Following the dust and calling it more These are the seeds That beseech the leaves for cover Hiking canyons where people have fallen These are places where some learn to fly Breaking escaping molds that are growing Stepping over cutting off the ties