You think I can tell you how I feel
Or do you think what I say is too real
If I say what I got to say maybe I'll deal
Maybe if I'm free I'll get personal appeal
I'm tired of being conceal
You were ideal
Here I'll reveal
I'm tired of this ordeal
I hate what you are
Don't die from a cigar
Before I break you open with a bar
You've went from my star
To under my car
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem