HELLO, BABY NEW YEAR

HELLO, BABY NEW YEAR

Hello, baby new year, you’ve arrived so sneaky fast,
And truth be told, you are looking suspiciously like the last.
I need a brand new symphony to chase my blues away,
And not the same tired orchestra and the same old notes you play.

Hello, baby new year, let us smack you on your fresh behind,
And give you room to breathe in this specious peace of mind.
If the world is sinking perilously, there is little you can do,
Despite all the legions and minions depending on you.

We have come to the fold, to the bend in the road,
Where solutions are not easy and sometimes cruel,
Not enough food, not enough love, and precious little fuel.
So spin in your dust and cry if you must,
Then cut the cord, it’s earth bound or bust.

Will you grow up to have a job in this spurious economy?
Will you curse being born in the land of the free?
Hello, baby new year, used to the luxury and designer label,
Living way beyond your means, with no food on the table.

But at least you’ll have your cell phone and your Game Boy
And your Play Station, to set your spirit soaring.
And with the Kardashians and the Jersey Housewives,
Your life will not be boring.

Yet I wonder what we’re teaching you, and if it all makes any sense,
With so few people in the world of integrity and conscience.
When Paris Hilton matters more than starvation in the streets,
When the homeless matter less than what goes on between the sheets.
When gays are free to marry, but not their own sex,
While we lap up all the details of Britney and her ex.

Hello, baby new year, it’s a strange and wild predicament,
That into this world at this time you’ve been sent.
When the confetti has been thrown and we’re left to fend alone.
It’s no wonder we end up so broken and bent.
So pardon me my bitterness, when you’re grown you’ll understand,
How such cynical times breed such a cynical man.

Hello, baby new year, sorry for the world we’ve left you,
But it’s your turn now to shake this up, you freakin’ little buttercup,
So please grow up and make us proud, but could you cry a bit less loud.
For I drank too much to celebrate and must sleep off this nasty headache.
Goodbye, baby new year, a fond farewell to you,
And please don’t bother daddy until New Year’s Day is through.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED