i’ve been kicked in the face ever since ‘88,
didn’t fit in with the children since the age of four.

oh my back is feeling so sore. need some loving rubbing fingers, to tend my wounds.

“you should do this, you should do that, you should be what i want,”
when all i want is all that’s tender, free of dictate or taunt.

oh my chest aint feeling so warm. pour me a glass of that old vintage, whiskey boss.

& my golden, my golden, age is on it’s way,

yeah mister said, “a cavalcade of sonance will manifest for you”.