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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required cry me a river give me an indian giver,maybe i can fix him think of the thought,the store you bought could feed a thousand towns with the food you leave lying around. you could do art in the world, marry a pretty girl to the turn of food she do marry,even carry in her eyes. its the prize and the dice is thrown?this much we know,we can keep two,you and the truth,when you marry it we do.i know of the earth turn and hunger burning,sure i was fit for command to every man who had a plan.he would look in my eyes and size me up,but he didnt think of the crux of the theft of dinner and whats left.its hard in the middle class to be that picture in the mind,when i find candy bars dancing in my thoughts when i rest.chest full of air and thats what you get to eat. when we seen this girl on second street,of course i was too tired and hungry to pursue her,to my hunger peanut butter and jelly will never do her,so i just willed her to happen and despite the laughing in my mind,i find were still friends,me and her,but there was no word of sex or even second best,it was less,just friends.to the end i go,i worked and held a job,kept my room a slob,but it was prop up and starvation,like the middle class across this nation.it takes em no time to help,to release us from our hell.then,bask in the glow and let me know how a ferrarri goes or my favorite group has a Cd on the loose.wait till im fed and have my own bed then tell me you need me at your show or in iraq,then ill find the facts do meet.give relief on summer street.
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