Some people call me stalker. Some folks call me creep.
If you could live inside my head, you’d never ever sleep.
It’s not that I am darker, at least not more than most.
It’s just that I own who I am. I’ve friended all my ghosts.
Come midnight as the world retires, I’m up, shaved and showered,
Then out the door and down the street, to claim my favorite hour.
Tween 12 and 1 my blood grows hot, my eyes and ears grow keen.
I’m just a monster on the prowl, a mad man dressed in green.
I stalk the trash that others toss into boxes, bags and cans.
A bit of string, a barbie doll, or a photo of your Gran,
And when my bag is ladened with treasures all un-new,
It’s home again to rip and tear, to drill, and paint and glue.
Lyrics © 2015 by Burnell Yow!
Inspired by a project I completed a number of years ago. It was called Fifty-Two Collages In 52 Weeks.
Stalker Lyrics Tell A Different Story