Medusa’s on the table
Dancing on Scarecrow’s brain,
While Tin Man’s in the corner mending hearts,
As the new girl waits in vain.
Paul Bunyan’s on the shelf
Sowing his wild oats,
As Babe the Blue Ox forges lakes,
Where the loons can crack their jokes.
Liquored up and saddled in,
The characters take their shots.
One by one they fall,
As the Natives cast their lots.
Plucking their feathers from their brows,
They weave a web to hang above their heads,
So their dreams sift over the moon with ease,
As nightmares vanish in their lonely beds.
The Yellow Brick Road will lead us home
To a place we’ve never been.
‘Til the sun sets in our souls
As we take a swig …
And do it all over again.