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.
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