The Lunatics are on the Run

In the still of the evening when everyone’s asleep
No one is watching while you're makin' it with the sheep
Except the midnight creeper
Whisper sweet somethings in your ear

They walk the streets of Anytown in daylight or full moon
Swamp creatures from the Black Lagoon
Or just some loonie toons
Gone off their meds, talking to little voices in their heads

The lunatics are on the run
Sold your soul, bought a gun
Hunted forbidden prey
Gave up the ghost, went away

Unhinged wingnuts channel the Fates
Looking for someone else to hate

As you’re drifting ‘cross the river Styx
What you thought was magic, were just parlour tricks
Such grand illusions filled your head
I sure hope Charon got his bread

I know your secret, we all know what you did
Now you face eternity, where nothing can be hid
Karma will be a bitch for you
Happy audience with you know who

copyright ©2017 T. Atkinson