Bloomingdale -94

Bullion Grey
Imaginateur

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The Bloomingdale Asylum

One would pace the floor, up and down, up and down, always looking at the door with a sort of frown. Two played cards at the tables, one shared hopes the other fables. One was always mad, mad, mad, mad those "bastards he grumbled."

But none of them bought Tiddlywinks that stacked in the corner.

Oh, there was the one who always stared into space, no movement, barely breathing no expression on his face. The one in the corner always counting, making counting rhyme, as if through numbers out of there he could climb.

But, no of them bought Tiddlywinks to stack in the corner.

The girl she would laugh, laugh, laugh all the time; late in the eve you could hear her laughing herself right out of her mind. What of the man who was always trying, trying to scratch his back; and of the young fellow always crying he sadly lacked.

But none of them bought Tiddlywinks to stack in the corner.

Oh I remember the writer, I remember him quite well, everything he wrote was if it came from hell. And there was the girl of goodness, yes, the goodness girl, She believed herself a saint living in wicked evil world.

But none of them bought Tiddlywinks to stack in the corner.

There was the one who could never sit still, sitting left, sitting right, slouching down all through the night. There was the mumbler, mumbling all the time, you couldn’t understand a single blasted line.

But none of them bought Tiddlywinks to stack in the corner.

There was the young boy who was mostly quite calm, but when you’d least expect it, he’d blow up like a bomb. There was the one who was always hungry “feed me more!” But when the food came out, he’d sit and pout and say “I’m not hungry anymore.”

I got so tired of these people missing out, So when I got my commissary allowance, I put in an order….and when I got my Tiddlywinks, I stacked them in the corner!