Just Like That Robert Frost Poem

 

in the morning when you wake up

and pour the coffee in your coffee cup

oh the skies are never ending

and the mounds are made of buttercup

 

is there a heaven i wonder

is there a hell down under us

 

maybe so, i don't know, i don't know . . .

but mostly i don't care

 

it's just like that robert frost poem

so for those who go on dying in their cloak

and underwear

 

that too is awful nice 

and it shall suffice

what is life if not wholly unfair?

 

 

 

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