Drum Time

Ya da ba bum it's drum time with my dizzy feet and toes
dancing circles in mustard drenched linoleum that you neglected
to mop the other day.
Your hands to occupied with the sappy ends of pussy willows
you know the part towards the end of the stick?

Ya da ba bum it's drum time, it's fall time, it's heart time, hard time.
Your ex lover died at drum time.
You should have seen it coming
but you were too distracted by the chemistry equations
you found hidden in the creases of your magazine.
You thought they were an equation for that perfect shade
of lipstick.

Ya da ba bum go the pal bearers steel tipped boots
crashing through stained glass leaves and pipes filled with wine
intended to induce global relaxation.
A terrorist attack.
It's drum time.
Don't you hear the drums?
Ya da ba bum?