They are called the "nuts"
Outlandish blokes
Turning the wheels of words
With worn-out spokes
They are the ones
Who feel your pain
With ABC's they gain the gain
Of others lives
Husbands and wives
Who want to lie in smooth sheets singing
Poetry people are the one's bringing
Something to think about
Just because your mom's a poet
It's not a reason to shut her out
As she'll write the feelings
Day by day
And night by night
Poetry people
Are just right
In the middle of your soul
Words and words and words will roll
Down a long green grassy hill
Without the poet's cry
How would you feel?
What would you do
In times of grief
Beef to beef
Anger pouring
I'll always be a poet
Whoring
Pimping
Poetry
Even if you don't think so
It's the best part of you and me.
