I fly to Seattle July the Fourth,
And have friends to see in Washington State.
I’m sick and I’m aging and see the worth,
Of one final trip through the Western Gate.
Could take the coast train down to old L.A.
See the Pacific and San Francisco,
Providing that I don’t let my mind stray
To a fellow whom I knew long ago.
No, I can’t go South till I guarantee
That my mind is clear of that insane crap.
I thought we were friends, but I didn’t see
That he needs a scapegoat and laid a trap.
I now understand his raw addictions,
Silence will quell all your dire predictions.