Numbers Up

time to change zip codes
 put in a change of address
countdown to liftoff pushing
buttons in the elevator
mama got to go see you later
it's too many obituaries on the black
refrigerator cemetery on the
calendar  feels like we're living
in a graveyard sometimes
no matter where I go, it seems
as though I'm talking to the dead
if I'm not talking to the blues
I'm talking to the reds
about somebody who died or
someone who bled on the side
some one I know or some one
I once met, church is on Sunday
but, every days a funeral
young life old life, life in general
I don't know sometime,  have to
pinch myself to see if I'm alive
need the wind to blow and the
ground to shake just to wake
from the hibernate it's not safe
too many lions, tigers & bears
lay in wait don't argue do not debate
too many around here carry weight
on full clips remember what sinks
ships even a look or a stare could
get your life took in a heartbeat
all it takes is a arm reach but
who can feel the touch