mr cottonmouth
sad and lonely inside, like a hollowed tooth with cyanide
groaning and bemoaning about the market, the trade, the money in his bank, thats who mr cottonmouth is
a very rich man with a house in his south
who whines and pouts, while others put his fires out
his tongue is long and split, with two little twins that drip
be careful, if you work for him don't trip, don't make him flip
he'll rip the stage, and try to mend the page
with the same greed that would make your mouth go dry
and like an animal, crass
or a poor child cornered in class
if you ask, why he basks so in the glow of his so called foes
he'll say its me or them, i deserve better than their pen, while he bawls and points, at the street
but if confronted with any form of the truth, it's almost comically as if theres a little cute cat, holding his silvered tongue, straight to the roof
he'll start to mold, his mouth like a snakeskin wallet that can't fold
filled with unpaid bills
but his voice won't go shrill, or squeak, he's adamant you see
that it was "them or me", refusing to believe
that he has soured all the nuts, giving them an awful bitter smell
Copyright © dibella dibella | Year Posted 2024
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