When My Time Is Finished

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When my time is finished

You may say whatever you want about me

That I never grew up

That I contain no redeeming qualities

My words were hollow & juvenile

My attempts at piracy weren’t any good

But one thing will never be said

That I didn’t love her the best I could

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Skyfall

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It’s not a crime to be pretty
Wearing rented dresses, searching for a breadwinner
Socialites & other plastic people
No redeeming qualities, but she wants to be thinner
Her vagina will accept almost anything
Whether it be dollars, pounds, marks or kroner
A consummate professional at all times
She expects to be well paid for every geriatric boner
You don’t look gift whores in the mouth
Searching for a sugar daddy, anyone will do
Sitting in the bullpen, hoping to get promoted
Waiting to pluck her next victim, how many already gone through
That swath leaving nothing to the imagination
Offended when the whispers mention a gold digger
Everyone can spy those silicone scars
Next time she’ll go a couple of cups bigger
Sucking more than the marrow out of life
She’s trading her youth for money & security
But once tarnished, Innocence forever besmirched
Time is constantly magnifying all your impurities
There are certain priorities in this life
A father must keep his daughters off the pole
But something much less discussed nowadays
What do you do once she grew without a soul
This scene is littered with heinous & fickle creatures
Cloaked, it slowly begins to scandalize & appall
Men with large billfolds & absolutely no shame
The current failure of society & they call it Skyfall

I Think You Have The Wrong Notion Of Me

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I think you have the wrong notion of me
I could be wrong, but it’s what I believe
I’m neither the saint nor the villain
In which your thoughts are trying to achieve
I’m not nearly as arrogant as I portray
That’s merely the manifestation of a fictional role
I know confidence is sexy & I’m trying my best
But I have doubts regarding the quality of the contents of my soul

False Attempts At The Old Scottish Jig

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False attempts at the old Scottish jig
Distant past lingering – nothing wise
She was never the heroine you always needed
Finally gave up after all those tries
Beauty’s eye was never truly blind
Having been lied to, left you distraught
Perpetual cycles now cold & mean
Never the quality you had always thought
Smile inward, you are the crowned victor
Playing their game with the cards dealt
Karma worms its way into a deserving soul
They’ll never know how your true love felt

False Attempts At The Old Scottish Jig

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False attempts at the old Scottish jig
Distant past lingering – nothing wise
She was never the heroine you always needed
Finally gave up after all those tries
Beauty’s eye was never truly blind
Having been lied to left you distraught
Perpetual cycles now cold & mean
Never the quality you had always thought
Smile inward, you are the crowned victor
Playing their game with the cards dealt
Karma worms its way into a deserving soul
They’ll never know how your true love felt

The Cold Metal Chairs Of A Stale Café

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The cold metal chairs of a stale café

A site for endless, inconsequential chatter

All I really wanted was a cup of coffee

Instead, I got rants of words that don’t really matter

I was wishing for something beautiful

In all those years I devoted to university

Thought to share my quality time

Read through renditions of cosmic poetry

In the end, you left me sitting alone

Without any beauty for me to gently stare

This time ended up being useless

Never anything you wanted to share