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