Author’s Lament
Bob Mould
Sometimes, as the traffic goes by
The urge to cross the line
Is magnified from revolution
Of racing tires
Inside this box, I spend most of my days
Creating lucid rhymes in hopes that
Something I write gives freedom
To clarity
Every time we play this game, you win, I lose, again...
Every time we play this game, you win, I lose, again...
It's easy for you to stand outside
It's natural for you to criticize
Or mean offense
It doesn't matter
Every time we play this game
You win
I lose
Again
Every time we play this game, you win, I lose, again
Every time we play this game, you win, I lose, again...
Every time we play this game, you win, I lose, again...