I see politicians walking on air
With his hand in the pocket of some billionaire
And I think to myself, what a butt kissing world
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Same old song day after day
Life’s real fine if done my way
Same tired rhetoric, week after week
Lost somewhere in it, the answers we seek
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Give my sisters back their youth;
it only seems quite fair;
the happy lines from happy times
escaping slowly there.
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Who I am, or have become
It all seems such a mystery
I rise and fall just like the sun
With questions locked inside of me
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Always in search, of the perfect words
Someday they’ll come and visit me
All the adjectives and cunning verbs
Describing all the world I see
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If the mood supports the thought
And the flow of words is right
Why must my pen engage my mind?
In a knock down drag out fight?
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A womans tears are a magic tool
Delivering at the worst of times
Her innocence; excusing her
From all of loves most heinous crimes
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When all of my troubles are getting to me,
and your sarcastic ways make you blind (or not see)
I can use your support, never -mind let it be.
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If I write is it wrong? some may think it so,
or is it just clearing my mind?
Just because one might like it and others may not,
am I really committing a crime?
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If I’ve dreamed and can’t remember
I don’t know why I am sure that you
Were dancing ‘round inside my head
As if per-chance you wanted to
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