These old diggers that sit at the bar
Let em drink piss
Live a life on the second
And talk to faces of memory
They do no wrong in Ziggys
Or the strip bar on the other side
Of town.
Its years of my wondering that
Draw me to a meeting with the digger.
They tell their tales
While we drink our ales.
"I may be 69 but I still like a
Smoke", said the ol' dude.
"But only good heads, not the shit these
Black fellas are selling down here.
They can stick that in their hard fought wallets
And take it back to the shelter"!
I smiled at the digger
He knew its meaning.
"You know I served in the war,
Saw some mighty fine sights son
And some ones that stick in my mind
Like a sword piercing history, but I'll tell
Ya son, get out there and see this ball of
Earth, toxics, greens and cultures before
The madmen throw a double six.
You got plenty to offer, take note of
And bring back to tell the ones who
Think you're mad waisting the biggest toilet
Roll known to man and women_
They envy you looking from the window of mortgage,
Sure its good to own land one day,
But hey, time has no place and we know
The rest, yeah there's a world out there
In amongst the story books
Seek and tell".

I liked his style
He was like an everlasting battery
That spurred on the limp ideas.
This five minutes keep the faith in my ideas.
He turned to me and spoke in a tone of
Authority like abird churps to the
New born flyer in the first glide.
"Do ya want another beer, son"?
I quickly responded, "the beers great but
I gotta go".
He smiled and knew,
I walked out of the bar
On my way to the other bar,
Acapulco sounded nice.