Brown Shoes

I’m not always - in disarray

It’s just my thoughts - that think this way

And sometimes I wear brown shoes –

 

I don’t always - drive erratic

There’s so much clutter - in my attic

I avoid watching the news –

 

From a distance - I do not lack

Be sure though to - stand farther back

If I could sing it’d be the blues –

 

When I have gone - and you remain

You’ll think perhaps  - this guys insane

Conceivably the booze –

 

How crazy would - you have to be

Of all the things - to read and see

This is what you choose.