I’m tired every day

But I’m not whingin’

Got my pencil and a paper and poses winding

My hates are all buried under the floor

where you can’t reach them no more

So you see I only got love

to give and to receive

so anything else in your imagination

you see what you want to tell you stories

I’d like to carry on with your story now

cause this poem’s getting long and winding

Tell me what you see and I’ll tell you what’s real and whats posin’

so don’t come around here promising

Cause I heard them before first hand

from the boys in my band.

And you posin’ isn’t roses but mainly  of thorns

inside so don’t get all pretty unless your sittin’ on my dicky

when you turn into  a porn star and get down so low.

To be honest I’m not interested anymore.

Your messin’ with a Psycho

so forget don’t ever let go till your lying on the floor

and I give you permission to move, ho.

 

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