Jack of Speed

Is this what the world (ok, she...) sees when it sees me? And if so, why do they come back? Why do they stay? Why do they DM? Why do they email?
I might be safe, but I can't be much fun anymore, not in that usual way.
Maybe, the way the world is now, safe is enough?

Sheena's party, there's a case in point
That right wing hooey sure stunk up the joint
He's gone. He walks through the old routines
But he's gone, guaranteed
He may be sittin' in the kitchen, but he's
Steppin' out with the Jack of Speed

(Found behind boards I tore off and recycled about 1.5 years ago in the basement of my house that burned indeterminably on Friday 12/13/24...)