A the sickle And you left me, not even for another
For a nobody who has already more than I
You just left me because he had
You've just tired because you had something else
You did not ask if I knew why
It fell pretty good. I did not know enough
And many have regrets
miss it over with as guilty
Already I find it takes me happy
able to tell me that for once, I was not scared From
admit defeat.
And twenty asses is all what I would have won
The twenty asses the bitch who quickly succeeded t'auront
In my bed of pain, which has seen too many past
Small chicks not a little proud of himself fucked
And then move on to posterity
From poems to the idiot, full of rhymes over hurdles at
craggy.
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