Make You Wiser With a Penny?
Give my own two cents instead, which is plenty!
Every penny counts
Got to nickel and dime it
Got to pay for me to rhyme it
Got to pay when you define it
Each coin is a gift and a curse
Each word is me taking another dive
In the dead-pool
Straight into the hearse
Sealing the coffin
Each word is so priceless
Because each causes death
It makes me feel more lifeless
I'll sell my soul, here; take it—
Can no longer make it
Can no longer fake it
Can no longer wait for it
Money for these words?
Honey, it's the curse
Which leaves me wishing
I was rotting in some hearse
A nice long nap in the casket
Another snuggled-up stay in the basket
For the headcases
A nice trip to Black Hole Fun
I can't stand it any longer!
Retire from it all;
Feeding you this poisonous
Black sun
The funeral home was laughing
It laughed at me and said:
'Darlin' now they've got you—
you let them truth soldiers shoot you dead.'
© copyright 2018-2024 2Cents (Priceless Metals, Pt.1)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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