Numb bears

I heard a song called numb bears on the Internets.


Everybody knows giraffes like classical.

They enjoy strange words, such as fascicle.

They’re conceited with their really long necks.

They don’t like the kind of Malcom X.


Everybody knows that skunks rock hard.

They’ve got the look, especially if they’re scarred.

They’ll trash your car if they come to your yard.

They’ll ignore the Man or any security guard.


But it’s kind of weird that vultures like blues.

They snap their fingers when they circle the moose.

They’re the ones who like bad news

And wear real classy, black vulture shoes.


What’s not weird is that moles like soul.

It makes them relax in their dark, little hole.

It makes them feel like they’re all whole.

This goes for them all, from Motown to Seoul.


What’s really sad, though, is a numb bear.

They don’t listen to music, they can’t care.

They can’t feel the rhythm, they’re not aware.

The music just passes them by, it’s unfair.


The bears didn’t always use to be numb.

Something happened to their special strum.

Something that made them feel sad and glum.

Something that changed them, they became numb.


Numb bear, numb bear, please turn back.

Before your numb mind turns coal black.


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