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A gun-toting nation marching back to save forests and parks
Society’s significance is small, minute, absolved
Dropping bombs, napalm attacks, many problems resolved
United nations at their mahogany desks, injecting heroin
whilst starving sun bleached babies cry, mothers bellowing.
But you can’t guilt trip me into helping
I’m from the west.
I worked hard for this life.
No.
Adverts with sad faces beg; they sob and sigh and plea
Just two pounds a month, they ask, please give us you money
We’ll build wells, save kittens and care for the old
Declare their leaflets with titles printed bold
We’ll not squander it on fast food and cufflinks and things we do not need
Sit back and gain perspective on life, light up, inhale, smoke weed.
But you can’t guilt trip me into helping
I’m from the west.
I work hard for my life.
No.
wonder if you get man of the match to?
> 'Heroin' does not rhyme with 'bellowing'. If it don't rhyme, then
> don't force it, because it chucks the whole meter of the poem out.
It does with a Yorkshire accent :-)
:)
Kyle this is very good