Pigeon Dance

I said - "there’s no hope and no despair... Most of these guys leave this world hanging by a rope and the others can’t breathe unless it’s clouds of dope and because of it, the pain always remains if it’s Friday, the cycle starts again. No amount of soap can clean the stains off their veins and brains And if it’s not those two it’s the vain cocaine sniffing crew. The people belonging to the few, the way up high percentage. The ones who say they’re self invented reaching for a box of tissues still dealing with their mummy issues. If it’s not the pick up lines, it’s the other kind. The refined and grinded kinds of lines. I'm not saying I'm unprofane I just have no interest in the leaves they chew" I said - "they’ll surprisingly drain your brain and you’ll have to refrain from self entertainment, even if the level of boredom is insane" I sit and say all this to a Pidgeon I say - "why do we need people if solitude is our religion?" And he told me you only die twice, and it’s all down to a roll of dice. You don’t always have to be the person to add spice. I say - "how come no one knows the cure how to forget your past fast?" He scoffed - " yeah, yeah, we know: the worst ideas are the best the night is also in the day. A feather is a feather and so is green, purple and grey I look at him: he dusts his cigarettes in the fancy way his feathers need a trim I'd be lying if I said he didn’t look a little slim. He said - "All I’m looking for is a slice of bread, who cares if  the world isn’t all that nice?" And said goodbye, wrapping the tip of his wing around the brim of his hat. Is that what you call advice?