You fashion words that fools lap up
And call yourself a poet
Tattooed pretense upon your skin
So everyone will know it
You, my sweet, are a fool
You, my sweet, are plain and weak
Go let the other girls
Indulge the crap that you excrete
Declare yourself an honest man
Who needs a chance to prove it
But traps were laid, the bed was made
So obvious you blew it
No comments:
Post a Comment