It is causing you to,
Think uncomfortable thoughts 'bout life,
And the things you think due,
Just 'cause the place you happened to be born,
Affords you to take time,
To feel guilt about the things that you have,
While others do not have a fucking dime.
So go vomit in that hotel toilet,
Writing it down won't help,
The chambermaid hired to clean it all up,
Regardless how it sells.
Though, it was good,
And it did make me think,
But art "does not change the life of the poor",
And neither, so you say, will anything.
No comments:
Post a Comment