Mystery Mail

Mystery Mail

It read: "I hope this finds you well"

To no avail

You tipped the scale

Now I'll see you in hell

Sailing over this story's arc

A cardboard box that missed it's mark

Like a comet seen at dusk

Like the Mayan twins born of the husk

We were raised and flew at the very same height

But feel individually from our flight

I knew Daniel since high school in Benicia

He sold cookies from his parents' freezer

But were we ever really ever close?

Now Daniel's gone and I'm his ghost

He went north and I went east

We had a plan - or an idea, at least

From his cousin's lab in Crescent City

Daniel packaged two pounds for speedy delivery

USPS to Greenpoint, Brooklyn

Every gram sold while his cousin kept cooking

Successfully, this went on

For, oh, I don't know how long

One day I turned the corner onto India St

I must have turned white as a sheet

Three policemen were standing on my stoop

Talking to my girlfriend, Betty Boop

I turned around never to see Betty again

I'm sorry, Betty, I hope you understand

I assumed they got to Daniel first

In this line of work you come to expect the worse

Some time later, the smirk was wiped from my smile

I was arrested for hopping a turnstile

Bones had told the warrant cleared after eight years

So, naturally, on my court date I failed to appear

Eventually, the cardboard comet had to fall

I took a walk down the long hall

The first thing I did from my cell

Was write a letter in search of Daniel

Daniel was indeed inside the lion's den

Not the only Lionkiller in a California Sate Penn

Daniel wrote me back in a matter of days

No mention of whether or not crime pays

He wrote: "You wouldn't recognize me anymore"

"I bet you'd rather be back cleaning toilets in Baltimore"

"I'll never make it out of this cell"

"I guess the next time you see me will be in Hell"

The letters stopped rollin in

I heard Daniel was stabbed with a ballpoint pen

About sixty times by his cellmate, Charles

Now people talk about immortalizing him in marble

Not everybody should be made a saint

Daniel was [a] good good guy, but a saint he ain't

Mystery Mail

It read: "I hope this finds you well"

To no avail

You tipped the scale

Now I'll see you in Hell