His creativity’s all but spent
Poor Old Floyd’s loaned his mind out for rent
And no one’s bothered to return it
All that’s left’s the meager deposit
His family’s gone, so are his bonds
Those “get rich quick schemes” are all just cons
When Old Floyd walks by, sharks smell fresh blood
Everyone thinks that he’s just a dud
Destined to live in a makeshift tent

Twinkling in and out of existence
Still ev’ry day he shows persistence
Running with holes in his worn-through shoes
Trying to burn off his ever-present blues
Poor Old Floyd’s life’s just blowing away
The wind never seems to blow his way
And he just can’t keep up a good pace
He wishes he could launch into space
And off on some distant planetoid
Make friends with some noid droid who loves dance

He’s the strange fellow named Poor Old Floyd
With a heart that’s been battered and toyed
With a honker instead of a nose
That’s coiled up then strung out like a hose
Gaining wisdom through discarded readers
And chatting with burnt out seniors
A hapless wanderer, hopeless dreamer
Living off fattening pig feeders
His dignity’s long since been destroyed

The old ones see what he could become
They think he’s bashful, but quite handsome
And with a suit, bow, and tie, they say
He could put on a great show one day
You’ve got stardom written all o’er you
Says the wise old geyser Ernie Lou
Don’t let fools incinerate your dreams
You’ve just been working with the wrong teams
But Floyd felt he’d missed his chance for fun

Old Floyd didn’t think himself a star
After all, Hollywood’s pretty far
Still he works out some creative themes
That would play out great on silver screens
It’s a thousand miles’ walk on tar
But it beats wasting away at bars
Halfway to Hollywood, he breaks down crying
“Is this ladder even worth climbing?”
He just sat, defeated, on the tar

At first, Floyd thought his ears were ringing
His nose, like a soft flute, was singing
Serenading his worn, tired soul
Then he realizes, he has a role
His honker sounds like a flute duet
Turns his head just right, a clarinet!
Then he dismisses this discov’ry
Feeling it’s much too late for recov’ry
So he walks a lil’ more ‘fore sleeping

A girl with dark, messy curls, Kim Lloyd
Finds Floyd alone, starved, nearly destroyed
In her kind, sweet embrace, he finds grace
Maybe there’s yet hope for the human race
His soul enlightened, his mind returned,
His roots in sadness forever upturned
He’ll learn to use his honker to play
Kimmy will help him, his friend she’ll stay
The future brightened for our Poor Floyd

Floyd soon found music could take him far
After just two songs, now Floyd’s a star
He reminds us dreams don’t need to die,
They can all be realized, in time
Once left to pout with digging ditches
His story’s one of rags to riches
Kimmy’s his true love and missing link
Love has power stronger than you think
Whether in a plane, train, or a car…

You’ll hear Floyd’s songs wherever you are.

2002 / 2018