Judgment Day With Henry Smith
It's judgment day with Henry Smith
He's sick of all your music
You've gotta stop that reggae drop
His radio's polluted
It's judgment day, he's sick of it!
Those Gothic pale faces
Those people think they own themselves!
He'll put them in their places!
And poets with your gangster rap
Reform your tilted hats!
You speak your mind and Henry smith
Has had enough of that!
You punk rockers, he's had ENOUGH!
Change up those things you wear
It isn't right! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!
To smile and spike your hair
But judgment day, it came and went...
Good gracious me! What luck!
Henry Smith, he said his piece,
And no one gave a >>>>
By Kyle Ezra Kriticos
Author's note: This poem isn't about anyone in particular, in fact I only used the name Henry Smith because it's common!
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