Boxing At the Garden
Shes the fancy fighter;
Who won't get it through her head;
That in that world that she lives in
There's only quick or dead.
He bobs and weaves and steps back
And he'll play the rope a dope;
He bangs the body mercilessly;
Then watches as she chocks
She'll cry out don't you love me;
He says of course I do;
But you're the one who always starts;
So lets do this till it's through.
She comes out in the third;
Dancing to the beat;
He sticks and moves and clinches her;
So he can feel her body heat.
He makes her throw her hands up;
Then hooks right to the heart;
Then slips and slides around the room;
Like a painter making art.
They'll never be a winner;
And they know they'll fight again;
Getting even is the game;
but no one ever wins.
The user, the abuser;
going head to head;
Both of them will know regret;
When all they knew is dead.
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