I keep writing poems
You keep placing bombs
I want all my meanings
To be close to love psalms
You want to fry all
Your cooking pot to roost
You want all the bygones
Keep focus on your roast
You have no deeper thoughts
Than what you have to boost
I’d never felt more shambles
Than some offering of the too
When a witness has to ramble
To make sense of the root
And explain away the silliness
Of grown men for the truth
Who only brags to offer
When none more is to boot
(C)2020 OWM/ Sperling Lieder, BMI
