Peanut Butter Man
I don’t care who invented it, I just need it like you need me to keep you entertained. It’s my heroin, it’s my cocaine. I’ll carve out a new fate for you, like washing tons of peanuts. Don’t throw peanuts to the elephant, they are tired of it. Hand me my cigar box, i got to tidy up a few loose strings. I’m much more than a diddley, Bo knows. They want me gone like Iguanas, they got cold hearts like iguanas. I’ll adapt like I got three chambers in my heart, i’m gone from this fun house. I may be down on the street but I ain’t no stooge. My name ain’t Moe, Larry, or Curley so I’m not gonna stand here and be the butt of the joke. I want to enter through the front doors for once, not wait out back for someone to walk out through the exit door to enter while I spare a light to these bums before they fire me up. Don’t pigeonhole me like I ain’t got no soul; I’ve walked through 71 train tracks with a temper of dynamite and i’m still alive. This cigar box gonna lead me to the light and that is in LA; i’m starting to feel alright but I still feel the blues. Ticket to Ohio from Michigan was withdrawn from the cigar box, off we go. I never thought i’d step foot in Cincinnati, this wolverine is still not sold on these buckeyes. These establishments are made poorly but I heard a festival is in town. The wolverine doesn’t settle when resources are low, gimme danger. Every dive bar i’ve been to so far has a free bowl of peanuts, I get the stage frights around them. They follow me around, they end up finding me. It’s the 70s all over again, the knobs in my head is turning like old televisions. Been awake for so long at this festival that my eyes hurt. I’ve traveled from far away and I can’t stop now. Already slatthered, smattered, and smothered in everything that makes me feel like I matter. Left it out for a bit and now its running warm like the soundtrack that is playing in my head, waiting for me to lead. Wrapped this silver thermal blanket around my hands, I thought it would stop the shaking but now my teeth are aching. I’m no stooge but i’ll follow along with the ruse. Rolling around in shards of peanut brittle, now i’m loose but I still feel like dirt.