They're peeking thru the keyholes again
Just because they're bored
& got nothing else to do
wanting to see if my life
is any better than theirs
watching me cussing out all the goddamned bills
piling up on my desk...

& they're peeking thru the keyholes
wanting to watch me walk in my boxers
at 4 in the afternoon
while I'm eating a bowl of Lucky Charms
& watching another talk show
parading in front of the so called great America...

They're still peeking thru the keyholes
listening to the click clack of my typewriter
milking out the inspiration of the dawn
third shift crummy job making me
crossing out every line that
this so called great America should read
& never would

& they're still peeking thru the keyholes
suspicious & wondering what's going on in my world
& they keep on looking thru the night,
& thru the sun rising up new dawn early morning
until the sun goes down again
suspicious & wondering just what the hell is going on in my world...

I hear footsteps coming down the hall -
wonder if it's them again
who is it exactly?
I don't know -
a nosy neighbor in search of a gossip, the nosy neighbor's cat, the next door neighbor's dog, a local cop desperate for proof of illegal doings, the prosecuting DA fantasizing about my day in court, the senator, the local councilman, a pervert, a lonely housewife in search of a fuck, the FBI building up a file mentioning the Anarchist Cookbook, the IRS laughing because they know they'll screw me over big next year, the CIA wondering why I am interested in the revolutionary poems of Mayakovsky -

But they're looking thru the keyholes again
watching me watch them on my TV
as they stumble to peek thru outside my door
with recorders, and papers, and a microphone
& still I, keep on writing, keep on fucking,
keep on eating, keep on struggling to pay the bills
& I wonder & I wonder,
do I still have the fucking rights to privacy anymore?