Now that I’m up, I’m not coming down 
Happy here in comfort town
Air conditioning, ice cold drinks
I think I ought to stay 

Brothers and sisters stuck below 
Why should anyone help you now 
Close by the oily grey canal 
smells of rats and fish surround 

Maybe some streetcar, bus or taxi 
will give you a lift if you make the call 
Maybe I’ll send a money-gram
A couple of dollars to pay the toll 

OK.  Maybe I’ll come and get you
Maybe you don’t really have to stay 
Climb in the limo and roll up the windows 
I’ll get down to the floor and pray

It won’t do any good of course
No one’s listening at the source
Still, the carpet, and my face, 
have gone this way before 

Ah, the motor’s running
Your escape is almost here 
Climbing home to comfort 
While the limo shifts her gears 

There’s the porch, the doors and windows 
There’s my magic house of light
We build more rooms just by wishing 
Dinner’s ready
Be polite

-JW Marsh