By Martin Ladekarl
I will promise you one thing
Chopped paint tastes better with pain
As does dry metal
Frankly better than that old saying:
Truth is madder than fiction
Trees still want to have best friends
Nothing bonds better
Than knowing this comes to an end
I will mistake you for you
That hair past my pay grade
That is to say you
Aren’t looking for that kinda fade
Truth is I will join the birds
Even if the wires are cut
And signals hang low
The birds will just sit on their butts
I will lay the body out
For all the birds to see
But birds don’t meddle
And they surely don’t speak to trees