worn-out like a dog's drool rag
calling on gods to hand down a smack
to the head on a non-cooperating neck
watching the deadline sharpen its axe

don't believe the beer drinkers
with their hearty southern laugh
when they bark they had enough
of being led by dog leash to the slaughter

this girl is somebody's sweet daughter
and if she was nothing more than bait
for trapping the mad bull the stray cats call fate
between two powerful legs, so be it

frat boys are rolling in with fat kegs
metaphorically speaking, i say thanks
because the pressure of the self-imposed meat grinder
is done squeezing out pages for the research binder

somebody please shovel out a deep unforgiving hole
for whom the maddening silence of the deadline tolls