Like King Kong

Some people think that being strong Is pretending that there is nothing wrong When you can hear the thrash of a thong Exposed and stripped of your sarong While your emotions rage like King Kong Taken from the place where you belong On display remembering every tong Like Samson 'til his hair grew back long Chained in the temple hall he felt strong He asked that it should be his swan song Pushing down pillars to right every wrong Destroying the theatre like King Kong In search of just one beauty all along Wrecking the city until the final gong With lady in hand perched high on a prong You find your sunrise among the pong The city's flying arsenal begins to throng As you hear the looming scores and song Yet some still think that being strong Is making like there is nothing wrong