Not to sound so personal,
so hard to speak out of frozen cold,
but from old to young-
framed to freed...
From bossed to doodled,
to cop-land inside my noodle,
call me into the brewery-
set sights on chewing me,
because time is my only eulogy,
and your prank is not doing things.
Banging isn't what's new to me,
and you are not a tool to bring,
though you're not much weight-
so I can still sing,
I am just doing things,
you keep the hate as you're schooling me,
because in one more age we will truly breathe,
...One more phone call and you are suing things-
such as a bird with ugly wings,
the earth isn't turned to the burning its leafs,
and this wage I am paid isn't buying jewelry,
like lazy Lizardry, I wiggle at the spilling of things,
eye ball when I ruin the breeze-
in the aisle with a basket and some briefs.
Copyright © Jimmi Canada | Year Posted 2013
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