Like King Kong
Some people think that being strong
Is pretending that there is nothing wrong
When you can hear the thrash of a thong
Exposed and stripped of your sarong
While your emotions rage like King Kong
Taken from the place where you belong
On display remembering every tong
Like Samson 'til his hair grew back long
Chained in the temple hall he felt strong
He asked that it should be his swan song
Pushing down pillars to right every wrong
Destroying the theatre like King Kong
In search of just one beauty all along
Wrecking the city until the final gong
With lady in hand perched high on a prong
You find your sunrise among the pong
The city's flying arsenal begins to throng
As you hear the looming scores and song
Yet some still think that being strong
Is making like there is nothing wrong
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