I used to live a life of hard;
A bard unrecognised,
A man unheard.
But now my word begins to sound,
I feel much rounder:
Like coffee ground well,
With that kick of a taste,
I am that man who ran
Without realising in directed way
The good he was saying
Along the roads
His brow did go and furrow.
And the women and men
Who toadied alongside
Attempted to hide their true motivations,
As beautiful minds are there to be fucked up,
Unlike beautiful women who generally
That fairly dubious honour
Of being fucked regularly with.
Only no longer is this any way the case:
The race to destroy me
Has simply served to strengthen my resolve.
And if you felt you could solve
Your crimes of power serious,
As hour by hour
You led me astray,
You are now way off beam;
Out of trolley;
Basket cases for clearly
And whilst you won the battles
That unspooled so frequent,
At least for a while,
At least whilst you could rule me,
At least whilst you could rile,
Those battles I mention no longer
Rattle my cage;
Or for the most part anyhow,
It’s love that now drives my rage.