You can not do the things I've done
you have not the knowledge of the fun
killing the germ of stupidity stick it up your bum
I wear my mask with out a strap and the killing of a son
my where my when I do not know the words will never come
so who am I the writers prose the lessons of my mum
to be so kind and lost forever my mind is always numb
to hell with the dooms day race you will never be so dumb
the shinning light of a star filled moon dreams are yet to come
Gleaming and shine the sky filled night it is reality for but one
My english teacher dumb bastard he, crippled me for years someone
They quenched my thirst for learning, and drove me far begone.
No comments:
Post a Comment