A Poet’s Life

Just a story of man and his fantasy…

I’m a poet don’t you know it

not always a rhyme twisting and squeezing all the time

A writer and an empty fighter

Had a million lovers each one stole the covers

Can’t say I’m cursed a woman’s body I’m well-versed

It’s money I never had lost it in Paris, Rome, and Stalingrad

I’m an old whore’s son always living on the run

My papa I never knew but I ran from many after the screw

Soon it will end hopefully in bed with a lady friend

Or two but I’ll be smiling before I turn blue