Styrofoam - Vic Chesnutt

Like the contents of a cooler

My thorax is styrofoam

I’m a cheap spent shell

And a biohazard

Grind me up then mail me away

Maybe transmogrified

I’ll be satisfied

That finally at long last i’m harmless

It is simply so

It’s my chemical makeup

I slough it off every 28 days

So raise your hand

And ask yourself a question

But make it the powerful one

And if you answer by rote

And pap comes from your throat

Just tidy up and think of me in pieces

Yeah, the lousy poet in me can’t lie no more

And the warrior in me

Has gone and died before

And that hard, handsome olympian

Was forced to retire

So dig out the films

And all those yellowed clippings

Do them up then stash them for good

Then raise your hand

And ask yourself a question

But make it the powerful one