Hammer Away

My skin is frayed and torn, my fingers raw and worn, my skin is stretched like flesh too tight on an aging, show-biz whore. They say I have the skill, I know I have the will, but take my shot and all I hear is laughter, high and shrill. For fun they call you weak, but scream loud if you preach, in three minutes they’d tear on down all that is dear to me. They sell this bitter lie: It’s better not to try. Nonsense, I’ve got enough faith not to buy that line. Their secret now is out, all they’ve got is being loud, throw it back with enough force and you can beat them down. So I hammer away, on this and every day, in the end you’ll know my name and they’ll just fade away.