You maybe a small one
Or a real big thing
Happens in mere fun
Even on a swing.
Like clay on a swindle,
A bondage with a ring
It’s nation is a brindle
And still fancies a bling.
They are never good enough
But that’s what you think I mean
You come smooth or come rough
God bless you with the truth in between.
Conscience doesn’t help you rise,
As shameful as you could get,
Covering yourself in sweet lies,
C’mon! I’m sure you’re not upset.
You come like a needle in the hay stack
A thorn hidden amongst the pretty roses,
Your moves bestow your mindful crack,
Duh! Crap comes when the door closes.
It’s the truth about your persona
You’ve lived this way all these years
Blowing your mind like Nirvana
You’re a prick passing it on to the peers!