Act of indiscretion. Bullets over broadway. A painful litagation process. Im tired of being kicked around. Im starved for affection. Give my remains to broadway. By scratching my beard all day. So shy is a good deed in a weary world. I will reveal what i know. Comedy at its finest power. The day belongs to the decent minded people. There may be snow on the roof. But fire in the furnace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem