Truth be told, the grudges i hold
Come together to produce lyrical gold
So i recycle my stories for you to hear
Over and over until they get old
Take a pill, sip my drink
And let the pen spill the ink
Inhale smoke from my cigarette
As I take a moment to think
In this state of mind all the time
In my zone i'm so hard to find
So many years of hanging my head low
Finally claiming my time to shine
(Here it goes...)
Don't get me wrong because I'm no longer bitter
But I'm sure that she used to be much fitter
The saying goes you can't polish a turd
But you can cover one in make-up and glitter
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment