To have and to hold
To have nothing at all
Quit trying to please
The hard working honey bees
Yes make music please
But no not to please me
You please him with your sex scribe
Is it art to which to mortify?
Don’t cry, don’t even speak
Your words and no longer knee deep
Im out to retreat to breathe in my own thoughts
Shed the guilt of the valueless lessons you taught
Good luck with your self
Your prayer and your health
Milk for the thirsty for the baby in blue
Toy with emotions is all that you do
No cream. No pillow, no cow trying for you
Full cream milk do clean the scattered winged dove
Full of lies, of shit will leave you un reached by love
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