SMOKE SIGNALS By Tom Jensen
As old as the earth is
Why do you even try to be original?
You thought you were the first to discover fire
Until sadly, you noticed someone else’s smoke signals
Went to the patent shop
It’s big and round so you named it a wheel
Then you ran out to find a cop
Asking him if you go to jail for stealing an idea?
You put your head back down
And you kept on walking
Muttering something about some cell
That someone somewhere should be locking
Usually the short end of the stick
Always a roll of the dice
Others have only had to pay once
But you always end up paying twice
The blame is pointed
The burden is passed
You were the first in line
Only to end up being served last