martes, 4 de septiembre de 2012

my rhyme ain't good just yet,
my brain and tongue just met,
and they ain't friends, so far,
my words don't travel far,
they tangle in my hair,
and tend to go nowhere,
they grow right back inside,
right past my brain and eyes
into my stomach juice

where they don't serve much use,
no healthy calories,
nutrition values.
and I absorb back in
the words right through my skin
they sit there festering inside my bowels
the consonants and vowels
the consequence of sounds

do you believe in rock and roll?
can music save your mortal soul?
and can you teach me how to dance real slow?

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