Push Pins

These days, the bicycle ride is with clenched lips
To the factory, where I bend trombone paper clips
And week days, are weak days for me and the state I’m in
To the factory, where I’ll be pushin’ push pins

Henrietta, Aw Henrietta
Says “Why is it so hard to phone my man up?”
I should tell her, oh I should tell her
How badly things have gone before I let her

But I don’t put my faith in these things alone
I put ships in bottles and sail these bottles home
Foolish love for me and while this war is on
I will sail this coast until this beach is combed