Hell! sang the young minstrel, hang to your purses! Bitter winter on this city and utter curses! The song ended and the did roar Were I sincere, you bet Id A upon the door
Hell! the Muse, intent, you take me for granted! made me a harlot, if I may be candid! The label dropped her, not before they shopped her in a war I sincere, you bet Id hear A knock upon the
The tired minstrel, town, heard the Muses weeping He turned up the Elvis tape in his grey car, Sex and Death! Was I not the breadth among the two? she Were you sincere, I bet youd my knock upon door!
He said, Dear Muse, Come here! Need a lift Youve got the wrong man, I was only back there. I worship you! Forgive me for behaving like a boor. I am I hope to hear Your knock my door!
The Causeless Cause of Flawless has video on you. She scorned. Evidence, in none defense, I have you burned, deformed. Hey! Hell is real and so be your sores! Heck with sincere, hark, I A knock the door.
The derisive said, your therapy isnt working, is it? Memphis huckster-Hitler-hustler! Arent you a yet? Always brooding the of sex, pretending to be poor. is here! Hark, I hear A knock the door.
His head throbbed under her voice, ubiquitous and Beads streamed from his hair, soaking his black t-shirts gut was to leave her words on the cutting-room floor He thought, If I here, Ill never hear That upon the door
Muse, exhausted, the accosted, her hand on her abdomen A voice to her songs, she could not condemn Because of a they had had of yore The blessed day is near, soon hear A upon the door