The Choice is Yours

 

I used to think about the time

when I would write a rhyme

that would be so sublime

'til I catch a mime

spinning like a dime

on a table

he was able

to turn life into a fable

As macho as Clark Gable

or at least the preferred label

Grace wanted to be still

Haters

became relaters

and cocked-out regulators

words would flow at will

Still thinking about the days

when I fanned away the haze

or crawling through the maze

knocking over powder-covered trays

I needed to get my life together

Hole after hole

I pumped it and almost lost my soul

Suddenly,

I couldn't stand that weather

At the last dance

I dropped my pants

getting paid to show romance

they all got more than a glance

But as I lost shade

I helped others get laid

Taught 'em even to do it on floors

I didn't make nearly enough

so I gave up all that stuff

to all the stars that I made

The choice is yours