I keep on sending tendentious rhymes out
like some demented machine gunner.
Sometimes I aim high, Pulitzer, no doubt!
Lucky to hit a page with a number.
It just doesn't matter I always say.
It's just a form of my daily yoga.
Done without ego each and every day.
In the long run it will surely serve ya.
But still I do unwillingly admit
as I keep my finger on the trigger
that it wouldn't hurt to receive a gift
of thanks from someone's satisfied hunger.
So I just keep gatlinging out my rhymes,
hoping not to do time for all my crimes.