Writer's Block

I used to dwell in Writer's Block
Paws frozen to the core
The landlord was a total cock
His wife a 2 bit whore

She always kept the furnace down
except in their bedroom
The husband, well, he shut his ears
Stared at the wall in gloom

I tried to raise a question if
I might have some more light
The unlit candles, sombre moon
They hardly lit my night

But Frank the landlord, he just shrieked
"You get your own damn lamp!
It's not my job to light your night
weren't you the Spelling Champ?!"

Frank slammed the door as he stormed out
cussing all the way
I pissed 'n moaned just for a while
but then thought "Well, ok.
This block I have to leave behind
abandon my old flat.
Thus shall I thaw these stiffened hoofs,
defrost my poor cold cat."

And so I packed my earthly goods
filled one small hobo sack
Gave one swift glance at nothing much
and knew I might come back

...
For years I've lived just down the street
One mile from Writer's Block
I still recall those gloomy nights
And Frank, that total cock

The bastard never changed those bulbs
Left staircase in decay
He mastered in excuses, though
like "Can't, it's Labor Day."

There still are days when my steps lead
towards that wretched scene
I do not long for Writer's Block
but y'all know what I mean.