End Up Rubbing You Wrong

End Up Rubbing You Wrong A buzzard can be compared to an assumption Central theme on their mind is consumption And they never will ever leave you alone Until all of the meat is picked to the bone. Now that there is not a thing left at all Mouth is stuffed full and can no longer call On ground, he is too heavy and will wallow Until deciding that he did have to swallow. So the very same goes for ego and pride Even though all tricks of trade you tried Piece of poem in mouth is like a putrid song Rousing your feathers while rubbing you wrong. Almost sounds like some politicians I know.