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.