Strokes of Sour Power

Why would I wanna be lemon or lime? When I could be lemon marang It might feel good in my haven sublime But there’s more left to do than just hang The bumps and wrinkles of my skin Reminds of some latter acne stage But flavored juices from within Show wisdomed hours on each turning page Through leaves way up in the shady tree The sun so often leaves me tanned With hunger pains you came and picked me Braving brush with wavering hand Nothing beats the view from up top So high, it shows your dedication Barked with lines that time can’t stop For me a win-win situation Convert me into something sweet Or you could turn on your crusade To masquerade with sourpuss treats And call yourself the lemon aide No, leave me hanging high and dry With shriveled smiles before I fall I choose to remain here in the sky Untouched till topsoil sprouts reform Who’s ever heard of a sour brigade? That laughs and likes to play the fool All gay and taunting the days away The greatest trick I’ll ever pull