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A simple man he strives to win with jest and cheerYet always he seems to hurt the sensitive earAnd never did he mean to say such words so cruelFor he is just a very, completely, ignorant foolI have never been able to writeThese words I thought I mightBe able to just to sayI might be rather brightSo if I have offended Just say, I will be brandedAnd I will always try to understandThe gift I have been grantedTo write such prose that can offendBut Aim them at the origin And not upset those people That can bring me a grinok that ones a bit weak the next one will be better, in my accent it kind of rythmes
there once was a man who had lost his own smile and he wondered the country mile after mile never quite knowing what he wanted to find for his heart lay heavy with the weight of his mindhe climbed a high hilllooked out to seahe hear a voice calling out softly to himopen your heart boy for it needs to be freeand the next time your crying come running to me
the thing is i find it hard to write cheerful. because when i am happy im doing other things
Quote from: geo driver on 28/11/2009 06:30:59A simple man he trys to write the connosures selectionBut head is fill with other stuffHe has found his imperfectionThe gentle argument against his quaff of quarmThe bitter wine he gladly supped has never done him harmKnowing not the folly of his ways he carries on regardlessSuch good friends he thought he found But maybe before he got them has lostNot lost, but gained a friend indeed, with words explained on bended knee,Those thoughts that fill a head indeed, do cause your aching heart to bleed,So release the pains that lie therein,and free your soul again.Never believe your friends you've lost,with your eloquence you can amend,Any words that you have thought, could cause hurt, pain, or offend.
A simple man he trys to write the connosures selectionBut head is fill with other stuffHe has found his imperfectionThe gentle argument against his quaff of quarmThe bitter wine he gladly supped has never done him harmKnowing not the folly of his ways he carries on regardlessSuch good friends he thought he found But maybe before he got them has lost
The sun goes down, the sky turns grayJust another end to an unemployed dayTomorrow Ill get up and walk the pondAnd return to turn my computer onAgain I ply my fingers to the keysTrying to find an employer to pleaseThe cold wintry weather doesnt helpMy careers feeling as flimsy as kelpThe longer I go without some workThe more I look to them like a jerkBut Im supposed to be infinitely cheerfulSo people tell me ... I always get an earfulSo my search for a job keeps going onIts even starting to make me yawnSometimes I dream of running awayTo a far off place like ParaguayIf you're an employer in the Boston regionWho needs a scientist who can reasonOr one who can be quite poeticDont you worry; dont you fret itHere I am; Im who you needIll send you my résumé at top speedJust send me a message on this boardIm here for you, just say the wordAnd, so, Ill end this pathetic pleaTo await the work thats meant for me