Assign right to the feelings left
Keep safe what your mother kept
Be sure of a manic cleft
Before his daughter’s left to be

Half-wit is what we often say
Of the ones, should be done away
With a bone and silver tray
Try your luck with faded glee

Think you saw what you never knew
And act like you heard it too
But can you call it something true?
Piece of dolor left to be

Try your hand at being right
Without the knowledge or the sight
Tough enough? Fucking shit is right
Give it up or state your plea

How come no one else around?
And why no one else make sound?
That speaks to me, not to the ground
Maybe crime is climb a tree

Gents you hear a final word
Of worthy soul and battles told
A thing not made for woman’s fold
Stand your ground I do decree

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>