The Craigslist Song

One summer day I typed Craigslist into Google

City of Toronto if you please

Electronics was my drink of choice for the tapes I’d hoarded had no voice

Since I sold my stereo on Kijiji

There among the white and blue a hundred dollars slightly used

obo no low ballers please

Panasonic AK29 dual cassette top of the line

Remote control and shuffles five CDs

Eighty dollars was okay I had to pick it up today

Grabbed the keys for Dupont I was bound

Near the storage place looked like a shack windows boarded walked to the back

I must admit I should have turned around

Now you know about my story

If you read a Craigslist Ad

It might be a good used guitar

Or it might turn out bad

Squeezing past an old shopping cart I saw some paint call it urban art

A three foot penis, boobs and a blood stain

Dirty words misspelled as well, a Swastika I thought what the hell

Am I doing here I am insane

Backyard hiding concrete blocks a mattress and a cardboard box

And a hatchway the right size for a troll

When I summoned all my guts to knock he opened up I couldn’t talk

Did you know Tex Watson’s been paroled

Now you know about my story

If you read a Craigslist Ad

It might be an 8 gig iPod

Or it might turn out bad

I didn’t mind the two days growth or the no shirt ‘cause I’d done ‘em both

But the Norman Bates look and my spine was iced

Forget the overwhelming smell emanating from his small dank cell

I should have asked ‘Do you believe in Christ?’

I’ve lived in basements that weren’t so nice but at the time they did suffice

But this shanty crawl space blew them all away

The smoke stained fridge and brown meat wall the toilet furnace pen catch all

Is not exactly what I would call Feng shui

Now you know about my story

If you read a Craigslist Ad

It might be a skid of flagstone

Or it might turn out bad

He said the piece was where he sleeps these woods are ugly dark and deep

I’m feeling more Ichabod Crane less Joan of Arc

Could you turn it on by chance he said that he was into trance

Then he said ‘hey bro are you a narc?’

It was intact and sounded nice and you just couldn’t beat the price

So I paid the man and shook his moistly hand

Skipped out side and breathed the air touch the art when I got there

Put the box inside started up the van

Now you know about my story

If you read a Craigslist Ad

It might be an Ikea cabinet

Or it might turn out bad

Now I crank the REM, some old mix tapes and Duran Duran

Thriller Hall and Oates and the Liffey Men

When I think of Mr. Ecstsay I wonder if he’s happy as me

Doing fine or doing 5 to 10

True story.