The girl next door is quite the bitch,
Who talks behind your back;
She’s crueler than the Wicked Witch
She’s mastered talking smack.
Her tattletelling knows no bounds
She’s liberal with the truth;
Her baseless gossip, lacking grounds
Appears to ears uncouth.
She thinks that she’s impervious,
That’s she’s above it all;
That she can whinge and cause a fuss
Behind her teflon wall.
But some day soon she’ll get caught out,
Her downfall, all those lies;
The tears she’ll shed, the cries she’ll shout,
That’s karma, bitch – surprise!
Like birds of a feather,
Two voices together
In harmony, rhythm and time;
A synchronised dance,
Transcending description, sublime.
Then like summer it’s gone,
A migration of one,
I keep singing for two but alone;
The melody breaking,
A dark undertaking,
The final beat one constant tone.
But sing on I do,
My voice pure and true,
‘Til our harmonies echo again;
Rejoining you’re glorious,
I’m counting my heartbeats ’til then.
When the nights draw in and the clouds unpour,
When the blood-red leaves mark advancing Fall,
When the threat of winter bangs at our door,
It’s time once again for the Monster’s Ball.
All the usual suspects have come this night:
The undead, the quick and the corpsified;
There’s Count Dracula, flown in for a bite;
Doctor Frankenstein’s brought his creature’s bride.
On the dance floor zombies are shuffling slow
While the werewolves howl to the strobing beats;
Lord Cthulhu limbos the bar down low
As the Donald lies and again he cheats.
It’s a Monster’s Ball on All Hallow’s Eve;
Time to trick or treat, time to make believe.