Full of it
That’s what he was.
Full of it
From the tips of his branded feet
To the ends of his black hair
It wud come
Overflowing from the spout of the proverbial teapot
Empty promises
Melodramatic vows and statements of love
Spilling from his eyes
As he felt sorry for himself
He couldn’t deliver though…
And I couldn’t wait any more
He was like a blind guy running
Through the city streets
And I was his running mate
Sooner or later you're gonna get run down
Even on good intention ave
Unless you stop
So I did
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem