Pollution Control

I’m not going to lie; this past weekend took a bit out of me. It was the last home football game of the season and we had a few friends come into town. The weather was cold and I decide to rage a bit more than normal. It hurt more than I expected, but then again, I knew it might get a little rough. The events of this weekend reminded me of a song that my brothers and I made up a while ago. There was music that went with it as well, but I couldn’t begin to tell you how to play it. This is what I remember:

It’s early morning, about seven AM.
Still silly from a night of Jim.
I think it’s as bad as the night before.
I can’t remember, finding the floor.

Don’t take into heart, but take in to mind;
It will happen again, it happens all the time;
And each time, you don’t remember the last.

On and on he keeps calling me.
Just like a friend, I’ve never seen.
We talk about a lot of things.
He says nothing at all to me.

Okay, so maybe calling it a song was a bit of a stretch. Maybe it’s more of a poem. Regardless, this past weekend reminded me of these lyrics. As I’ve been trying to shake to cobwebs out today, I realized why I don’t go big like this all the time. It’s just too much work.