When machines drink
They tell me the true stories
Loose lips
My computer is a movie-of-the-week abuse tale
The keyboard is said to have the death camp mark yet
And my guitar has track marks that would make junkies scream
Occasionally, they will fight
As when my compressor
Puffed out its chest
And blew out the circuit breaker
Or when the television revealed its liberal tendencies
To my conservative remote control
Which buried its head in the couch
The hammer and my roofing implements
Like to commit suicide for attention
It’s never real
They’re always waiting at the bottom to be oiled
But I have to cart my ass down the ladder anyway
The computer is jealous
It steps between me and anyone who would come near me
And says
Stay off my man
And slaps drunkenly
As I try to take it home for the night
And when they throw up
In shooting electric sparks
When they stumble
Taking apart the union carpenter
When they are banned from the bar
They sing
They sing a drunken rasping sound of mechanized gears
They are more simple than we are
They have better reasons
They have better beer
And like a dog
They lay down to nothing
And like a dog
They howl at the moon
The roof
The story
The fuck am I writing?