Keep your tempo, honey
coz sarcasm's after you,
on you, I'll put my money
you will feed my entire crew,
of broken hearted and the betrayed,
the not-there-yet and the made,
Poetic justice is hiding behind the closet,
too afraid that it might get killed by the musket,
of lies and empty promises,
I played the dart of life, all misses,
Keep hiding, honney
coz your lies will kill you,
golden as an emmy,
white as an igloo,
you're the hostess of your own award show,
for girls who know,
how to hurt by hitting,
you with words of serious beatings.
You're good at that, honney
for you there ain't no Easter bunny.
This town ain't big enough,
even if we cut it in half,
you might want my share,
but i don't care! ,
coz i already grabbed a taxi to 'happy' street!
near the streets of the 'broken hearted' and 'betrayed,
just left of the 'not there yet' and 'made'.
you already decided without deciding,
and I accepted without accepting,
you don't like me...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.