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| i was raised to be a winner, but i lost, in little league i was the strikeout king, i could not strike out, even with the silly distraction of a spider monkey leaping from shoulder to shoulder in the laughing crowd. i don't know why i think of that, being scantily employed walking dogs perhaps. nevermind. |
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| and because the radio is talking about winners and losers and what it truly means to win, and the paradoxical of being a loser, and dignity and stuff, and then i'm singing along with the song on the radio, i'm winnin', i'm winnin', i'm winni-in', and i don't intend, on losin' again, fen. |
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| oh one more thing columbo, if you don't see it, you assume nothing happened, and you know it did. (you don't have to make sense talking to a dog, they understand, and appreciate inflection. |
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