Same Ole Script
Sounds like the same old script
You're torn and I'm ripped
The words bite their tongue unsung
When the melody plays hummed
I wanna have a ball
And be the belle of it too
I don't just want small potatoes
I want the whole stew
A Prince of all the gents
Words that are meant
Take this chair
This throne's for you
A lighthouse gaze
That stops the cold
I don't want gold
When coal could suffice
A king's ransom in laughs
And a dirt road path
I don't want the world
I just want to be in it.
Copyright 1995 Angela Y. Rancourt