you're a pound of flesh
you're an overdue book
you cannot take
what's already been took
now baby you've got the feel
and you've got the look
you're a pound of flesh
you're an overdue book
you're a prayer for judgement
you're a shooting star
blind man in the alley
playing slide guitar
you're way too close
to be going this far
you're a prayer for judgement
you're a shooting star
incurable sickness
you're a runaway train
you're an addiction
stronger than cocaine
you shake them hips
you drive me insane
incurable sickness
you're a runaway train.
Hi Eric... Seems to be the only way I can communicate with you at this time. Trouble on the site I guess. I can't read what you sent to me in my in-box (messages) ... By the way.... This is quite a nice piece of art from you.... As usual... I look forward to reading a lot of your work... I wrote a poem recently called My Brother In Law The Blind Preacher.... If you leave a comment I can read it there.... Or my email is: jgchigger64@nctv.com.... Be happy to hear from you.............. Respectfully........ Jim Troy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
an intriguing poem, I wrote you a response 'every pound of ripe flesh she walks in has histories mysteries untold stories' the complete poem response is titled as 'Pounding Beats Beg Passion Dances' warmest regards Terence