We’ve all got strings
Being played
How did I know
It would end this way?
Bust a lip with black eyes
Broken nose
Packs of ice
Resting on my bones
Till another fight
When will my strings
Be played right
Trying not to be a victim
But I’m feeling dark tonight
One drink for the road
This road I’m on
Mustn’t lose my grip
On the wheel, heading through
A town I know will never heal
I’m terrified I’ll want to die
When the news travels down
The grapevine
I’ve been to that place
I’ve had my neck in the rope
I’m scared I’ll still fight
Against my own conscious will
When it comes to the kill.
Happiness don’t look good on me
Dressed in rags not fit to please
No tilted hats and shiny shoes
with a smile on my face, it looks misused
Got a look that people will see fit to refuse
And if a fight should find me
Sparks will erupt in violence you can’t defuse
And I’ll be locked up in Alcatraz by the bloody screws
And I’ll be playing the joker to amuse
So as not to have my arse black and blue
©Silverbackgorillapoetry 2016 June
I put on my dancing shoes
In bedlam
Or is it Alcatraz
One can’t tell
When you’re on the razz
Shiny brown shoes
Got on my suit too
Slick my hair back
I’m a silverback gorilla
Wanna put on a fight?
I’ve got fists of fuckin’ Dynamite
Golden rings on fingers
You’ll be goin’ ‘ome in blisters!
So put on ya dancin’ shoes
I’ll put the grit
Back in ya grin!
(c) 2016 March
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 