Plaque

The lone star rolls up on the little rock From his state of my way, highway ego He scoffs at the inconvenience of a road And at the X, tells me which way my bow ought to go So I sat and saw How I could have my twinkie and eat it too How I could have legs like stilts and still Trip over a high school sized pebble in my shoe What's one girl's opinion gonna do? His praise of God is best done through boast As a man full of air, with no son and no Ghost He cries out "Jesus!" In vain And is only Christ-like in name There is no err in his ways, Only existing sin is taking blame Because it's his charges that kill him Not the verdicts made in His courts I am glad to spend one day in his house So I can be glad for the thousands elsewhere I don't need some secretary Telling me my shortcomings made another man sick! his illness was bred by being on-fenced for the freedom of his ventilations In acting sour while believing he's forced to be sweet In choking on his Freudian horror While maintaining to appear so perfectly neat So I sat and stared At a man claiming to be ignored in one facet And rear-kissed in another At a man who dangled expectations above head And likely hid secrets from his brother At a man with a wall of success And yet a man who can prove That even in excellence You still lose What's one boy's opinion gonna do?