The Last Waitsgiving - Fishboy

And so I run my tongue across the gap

In my bottom two front teeth the morning

I try to get my album back

The one I lost so long ago

And though the crew was briefed and prepped

Nervousness ran through our bodies

The shade parade had stopped its step

I pushed down the first domino

Ear pieces in place, DJ on stage

Curated a mix that she aired over radio waves

Every turntable play in turn would dictate every move that we made

And the first that was made, register teen

Greatness Waitress there on the scene

The band played a deafening Waitsgiving theme

Just a distraction for the real action

DJ swap the record out, trigger the next phase

Of «Operation Last Waitsgiving Day.»

The limousine lurched into place

Followed by a flatbed trailer

Piggy Sue and Candy Crane

Together formed a brand new float

The smoker and digger of graves

Beautifully they weld together

A pig with several scorpion traits

Whose stomach started belching smoke

Father and son reunited as one

Piled the fire until the wood pile was gone

Smoke billowed out to the lawn

Hiding the digger from all lookers on

Grandson looking on: Snocone Creator

Stationed to lookout for oncoming danger

Instead inspired to make a new flavor

When danger approaches no one is noticing

Out to the early end of all at stake:

Halalala Last Waitsgiving Day

And then out of the limo, the Geriatric Pyro

Leapt on to the smokers' float

Whose smoke was slowly dissipating

Oh, I must confess it was I who made the mess

I burned your building down that night

But I’m here today to make it right

His cymbal lit with flames

Which brought more eyes that way

So the delivery driver raced

She grabs the mic from off the stage

And she cues the Greatness Waitress band

«Play our new grapefruit spoon jam;

I’ll teach the audience to dance.»

And the diary she once dictated

Now a mass coordinated

Dance that somewhat went this way

Up down dig in the ground

Up down up down dig in the ground

Up down dig in the ground

Up down up down dig in the dig in the

Up down dig in the ground

Up down up down dig in the ground

Up down dig in the ground

Up down up down dig in the dig in the

Ground at my feet the hole now complete

I pulled back the time capsule box and I turn to the street

Before I can make my retreat

A voice in the air, it calls out to me

I look up to see the Grand Marshall say

She’d like for us all to give her dad thanks

It’s my daughter, she wants me to come up on stage

Box in my hand as the audience chants

I give my girl a hug, tears rolls down my face

I hand over the album, and I say «Happy birthday.»

She hands it to the DJ, and the DJ presses play

On the soundtrack to the Last Waitsgiving Day

And in the box, a letter dedicates

«This one is for those of us who wait.»