Going out the back door of my job,
smoking a Camel Menthol cigarette.
I imagine a red door with a jet black knob,
A spectral creature pokes out its head.
It beckons to me, but I fear no evil,
I approach with a foreboding of dire things to come.
The phantom may not appear to be malevolent or lethal,
But neither does a four year-old with a loaded gun.
I digress, just when I was close to wandering through that open door,
Reality kicked back in, and I was on my way home once more.
Shadows danced on the road while insanity swam in my head.
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