It Takes You Places
pain,agony and the whore named routine kill more than love.
so I travel this path reluctant as a chosen saint by a Pope,not one soul could blame me if I screamed.
It never happens the way you think,I always take it out on the innocent.
reminders of life and it's fragile nature annoys me to fear,
there's no beach here
no palm trees
no salsa music
nothing!
you never stood a chance baby,nobody bets on a horse to come in last.
Copyright © Frank Penicaro | Year Posted 2017
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