Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem


Pretty Molly Malone, she likes to drink alone,
and wants to be the next Hemingway.
Writes down every word, that she has ever heard,
but never has anything to say.

Well good Reverend Rob, after his Sunday job,
goes home and ties his wife to the bed.
His fire is burning hot, he gives her all he’s got,
but he can’t love with a heart that’s dead.

Chorus:
People want to keep on dreaming,
but they always end up screaming,
and pulling the hair from their head.
This city will remain the same,
though some of the places and names,
have been changed to protect the dead.

Wanda works on the street, hoping that she will meet,
the kind of man she’s been searching for.
The one that says honey, please take all my money,
she’ll grab it and want twenty bucks more.

Now when old Greasy Joe, passed away in the snow,
they said that a needle was to blame.
He died in December, but none will remember,
cause his headstone does not have a name.

Repeat Chorus:

Those cars they keep stopping, Billy’s head keeps bobbing,
at the end of some dark alleyway.
There’s no way fifty bucks, is gonna change his luck,
but it might chase some demons away.

Repeat Chorus:

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