I heard the little guys squealing through the night
What was I supposed to do
Nothing else I could do
I had to trap them
Get them out
I woke in the morning as I would any other
Dreading a certain task that
Lie in my certain future
However this was a task
I loathed
This is New York and I have a renter coming in later
So sometimes I just have to
Thrust each foot
One in front of the other
I peak around the corner to discover
Not one, or two
But three rats entangled in a sticky mess
A sweet concoction
A paste
Tieing mouths, feet, and bodies to the goo
They writhed, and gnawed, up and down
Breathing fast as they could
Little did I expect what I saw
But quickly I understood
It was a small family all stuck there
I have no soft spot for rats
But I did feel a bit queazy
And I do have a renter coming in this afternoon
So off they go
Somehow an article of ours had been entangled in the mess
So I slowly worked the chord out
While the rats writhed more and shouted
Their high pitched scream
This is not the city I had grown up to know
But here I am with gloved on
Trying to pull chords off rat family
Entangled on a board of sticky sweetness
Not quite sure how I got here
–
So I dispose of the rat family
Breathe slow
And return to my day
–
My wife wakes up
We talk about the rats
I was not excited about the conversation
But I had taken care of it
The next topic on our minds
Food Stamps
I never thought we were that bad off
But somehow
The rats, the rent, the life
It comes at a price
That we are just coming up a bit short of
So we talk briefly about opportunities to eat
To have more food
“Seems like we are perfect candidates”
“Yea” I respond
“I don’t see why not”
–
This is all to the setting of the biggest looming opportunity
We have ever had in our lives
We have dedicated our lives to our art
Somehow opportunities are sometimes presented
Rather than sought
–
So as I sit at the piano to rehearse
I realize
My life
Somehow
As weird and dysfunctional as it can be
Makes sense
A Cup of Songwriting 