On July 9, 2011
I've been flogged a million times
and resold like a book,
a loanword duff from the shelf
and made into retail dream,
so step me down
anyway you need.
You love me just for saying
and say it like you mean it.
What a thespian you are
no wonder I believe in every lie.
I've been your elated fiddling storm,
the preposterous frenzy
to whom you played a vile cod
playing me so bally cold.
It's moth-eaten to say
how much I miss you,
but you have no time
and I can't reach you.
I'm afraid you may die
-aye!-hail Mary to your sweet destiny
So, you may keep yourself.
Yes, you may continue to be
- you do good what you are.
No fear, you may keep yourself
because I'll love you all the same
and we'll do fine no matter how far.
