bringing it head on hardcore
i heard this shit ten times before
talk your shit until my ear is sore
don't wanna hear your words no more
take your words right out the door
dont make me flop you on floor
bust your teeth toss you out the door
looking like your ass is sore
after calling me a whore
you know you a bore
so I'll settle this score
forevermore
if
I
have
to
with
my
.44
YOU ARE READING
I See Through
PoetryPoetic musings of Barry Tudor on life and introspection. A journey of a motorcycling American poet lost in the midst of his own country. Hellish past. Glorious present.
