I have this temptation to write a song
Something thugs at my sleeve
This mind thinks naught but of itself
It sees nothing but it’s image!
Will it understand my lyrics?
I wonder how it thinks
The things that gives it pleasure?
Must be a sadistic brain
Some there are that feel the world started when they were born!
Will it finish when they exit it?
They are empty
They must say a thing on anything
Desperate for notice
Such narrow mindedness !!