We say lightning has no wings
when it slides down our houses
We say loss is just a condition
we acquire to bury our pity further
We say the bleeding hands
on the table filled with red wine
imported products and passports
are just reminders of
who we have become
......
NO more of your guests, be they titled or not,
And cookery the first in the nation;
Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit,
Is proof to all other temptation.
Once more I take my pen in hand,
And write of sorrows, dark and grand.
But ere I weave this tale of woe,
I must apologize, and so
To you, my dear and patient reader,
Who may find my work a dreary bleeder,
I beg your pardon for my style,
That oftentimes may make you smile,
......
I MAY not scorn, I cannot prize
Those whose quick-coming fancies rise
Only in quaint disguise
Some trick of speech, or mien, or dress,
Some obsolete uncomeliness,
Some ancient wickedness.
Strange words antique for tilings not strange,
Like broken tower and mould'ring grange,
......
I'm tired,
Exhausted of apologizing
To everyone for everything I've done
And sometimes for things that I've not,
For all my stupid decisions and actions,
For doing something that I'm not even guilty of,
But your ego demands my apology,
So here it is...
Forgive me for being myself
Forgive me for prioritizing myself over you
......
Once more I take my pen in hand,
And write of sorrows, dark and grand.
But ere I weave this tale of woe,
I must apologize, and so
To you, my dear and patient reader,
Who may find my work a dreary bleeder,
I beg your pardon for my style,
That oftentimes may make you smile,
......
I'm tired,
Exhausted of apologizing
To everyone for everything I've done
And sometimes for things that I've not,
For all my stupid decisions and actions,
For doing something that I'm not even guilty of,
But your ego demands my apology,
So here it is...
Forgive me for being myself
Forgive me for prioritizing myself over you
......
NO more of your guests, be they titled or not,
And cookery the first in the nation;
Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit,
Is proof to all other temptation.
I MAY not scorn, I cannot prize
Those whose quick-coming fancies rise
Only in quaint disguise
Some trick of speech, or mien, or dress,
Some obsolete uncomeliness,
Some ancient wickedness.
Strange words antique for tilings not strange,
Like broken tower and mould'ring grange,
......
We say lightning has no wings
when it slides down our houses
We say loss is just a condition
we acquire to bury our pity further
We say the bleeding hands
on the table filled with red wine
imported products and passports
are just reminders of
who we have become
......