I am a former man of constant sorrow
feared the day that was tomorrow
the day came where I desired new self-esteem
For the asshole was so mean
he felt eager to be supreme in a house that wasn't his
I felt tired and feathered in that place
where I could not agree with unanimous grace.
This was the beginning of my summer of joy
where before I just would play with a pointless toy
For those who were all very alike
that sought power in all delight.
In this summer I seemed well redefined
in most loving sublime
with friendship in night and day
it is what began
BEGAN this play
this scene I lay
in former rhyme and modern way.
They wanted me innocent, and pure, for sure
but only in their eyes I am not
For pure to them is no real cure.
They wished me God and Hell fearing
and sometimes simply mentally disturbing
In the end... well, find out in your reading
so you'll get my meaning
For my chosen sword makes not blood turn red
my pen runs black and my words make assholes dread.
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