Go Dizzy

Close it up again, shutter.  Wrap this year in Saran Wrap, pull it tight.  The air might getcha.  Don't let the air getcha.  Getcha, getcha, getcha.  

The boogieman bums are back.  Amatuers of the lowest order, the gutter league, the small timers.  Let them clock stare, let them tick their tock alone. They can count it down by themselves.  From ten to one.

The ball fools.  Resolution whacks, the turn leaf liars, the wave chasers.  Spin.  Go dizzy in the new year, go around again.  Spin.