Burning fingers, burning bridges
Know your crime and do your time
You ain't a poet and you know it
Just a cheapster churning rhyme
There is anger but there is time
So bite the bullet and ask no dime
Keep walkin, keep walkin away
Coz after today you can't stay
You are bold, so you been told
But you see blackness in your soul
Burning fingers, burning bridges
Burning skies. The devil cries.
Friday, March 5, 2010
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4 comments:
Wow!
Reading this poem just burnt my eyes!
Sorry to be so flippant. It's actually a very very good poem. But what anger!
Angry? Me? :)
Boom! It's just wonderful...you keep writin 'ol boy...great!
Hey thanks!kicked you liked it.. :)
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