Bed Rest

I got a gold chain I wish was gold,
It hangs off my neck,
I feel pulled
by the fatalities in Dallas,
jerked by the stories the civilians will have,
the lives we'll have,
after the news stations report,
Is all I really have.
I got a gold chain I wish was real,
and I'm listening to the news reporters report on the injured
and deaths of police officers.
I got no money to say, stay, relay, repay, care take.
I'm a loaf of moldy bread;
the criminally insane.
I'm a loaf of bread,
am I insane?
I got no bread, no place to lay my head? I,
I have T.V.
And the news is new to me,
I have a gold chain hanging from the corner of my bed,
here I lay my head:
Bread don't bother me in crumbs.