The color
of money
is the
color of greed
grab
what you can
take
what you need
a wishful
thinker
lives
in the past
climbed on
the world
that went by
too fast
more temper
than
imagination
portrait of
a losing side
opinions formed
without
taking time
to care
The stone thrower
broke the windows of his glass house
thoughtless search
for a
scapegoat
a human coin
on edge
for a time
having a fallout
all of his own
hungry for
want of gentleness
a carnival story
with absence
of scenes
slightly tilt
and left
of center
he can rum
a four minute mile
just as long as
he was chasing
a fast buck
Sour man
sit in the rubble
of your own making
feed off your own
disillusions
When your irrational
it's always a sorrow
a thin line into
the dust
Sour man
feed off your own
disillusions
sit in the rubble
of your own makings