Singing my song.
I’ve done bad things.
I’m no saint.
Erasing my valiants though,
Is adding to hate.
It doesn’t relate.
Make no mistake.
I will fight to go on.
Through vagrants and advanced hustling hooligans.
Hold fast to my song,
There is truth in this,
Tubulular creedence
Ask later,just exhist.
Average rehashing of a name sake,it doesn’t matter anymore for god’s sake.
When it does,who pulls the strings?
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“Tubular creedence” makes me want to say it out loud. There’s some damned fine sound in this poem.