Plesure In Pain.
Poem by Ron Farmer
if its true a man of our time, is a man like me, then he has a mind
of a deaf man, blind..
Pleasure is pain it is one in the same and I have a game,
to delet a mans name.
What we have here is a tale of a man and his madness.
A tale like a fox alone with a rabbit.
At last thing I can say
I've gone from gray to black.
Thats simply a fact. If you are a maze then I am rat.
Give me a play I'd i'll show you the act.
Suffice to say If I am the glass you are the crack.
Cuz if I can play sports and dance in the rain
You should support and take plesure in pain.
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