Some times
a man
must
pull the wool
over his own eyes,
just to make it through the day.
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Some times
a man
must
pull the wool
over his own eyes,
just to make it through the day.
Good men
Are broken
By broken women
Born of broken mothers
By broken fathers
Who’ve broken
Good women
Scars heal.
Women don’t.
Women remember everything.
Every failed step.
Every spoken word, every mistake.
But women forget sometimes,
that men too
are unlike scars.
Men don’t heal either.
Men remember everything.
Every time, every opportunity.
And every failed step.
Then there are scars.
The untimely breakup,
which neither swears
they ever saw coming.
Imagine
there are two sides to every story,
sometimes three, four,
most times there are twelve.
It depends,
on who we are, who we’ve been
and who we’re trying to be,
like auditioning for a role.
And it’s easy to say,
that you never tell a lie,
or that I’m always wrong.
If I were to believe that,
if you, are so able to believe that
then, clearly
somebodies a liar.
With
a little bit
of boob
and
a little bit
of butt
girls become women
and
boys become men
until
children
make them
children again.
You don’t even have to read between the lines.
With all their talk about cold, cold hearts,
bouncing between heartache and chord progression
like a broken record, it’s apparent
why these yodeling old cowboys are obsolete.
Did they ever really sound that good in their time?
At least the melodies sound good, silly boys
if I could remove your voice, I would,
and in its place insert the songs of a woman,
who’s light shines brighter than your sorrow.
Mercedes-Benz – now that’s a song with heart.