Honest LyreHonest Lyre.Bring a pan kettle, throw them in the fire.Throw a fire a dollar, lose a dollar there.Plate a dollar nickel, never find a buyer.Likeness un-liked, useless unused, doubling doubted, truth is abused.Wise is that man, that builds himself his lair.-Bring a pot some ginger, win another layer.Win a war with honor, never find a liar.Tell a liar off, grant him now a 'sayer.'Compliments admired, brutality refused, discretion tolls "aid," Honesty less bruised.Long live that man, who sings to his own lyre.
ChildrenChildren.Suffice my vice to acclaim my pain, I shall yet not run away.I'd advise myself to quit, but my advice lacks luster a bit.My fun awaiting calling for play, my games can't wait yet another day.Fulfilled my wishes else garden a fit, I'd fit in a can with this mind of mine.With the mind I have I'd fit through a ring.Anything, I'd fit through a needle's eye.So feeble my intentions that I'd throw rage to the glass.Graze my ego when everything crashes.Glaze my mind when all rests; a little bit better that way, feels better like thatA little me carefree and wild, 'guiled' by the glint in my eye, wiled by the guide
Well I shouldn't say priceless. On the right market, I could sell that reaction for a hefty sum, but it's not priceless.
Now if only there were a market that accepted reactions in exchange for currency, you'd be set.
it's across my street. it's called a drug den.