Moocher
by Me
A twisted leg to walk upon
a shattered pocket glass
A fresh new face to sit upon
a chamber filled with gas.
No mighty are to conquer
no meager here to soothe
No minstrels left to wander
no mountains left to move.
One ticket to the future
one straight line to the past
One friendly money moocher
to give of her my last.
No comments:
Post a Comment