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You Made Me What I Am

You Made Me What I Am

I am, that was from dead womb born,
That drank the spittle of your scorn.
And from the riches of your dumps
I got my meals in moldy lumps.

That little boy, frail fly magnet,
The Devil strung him in him net
And did put strength in his weak arms…
So come I now with untold harms!!

Bang …

Don’t look at me with pleading eyes,
(For no conscience within me lies)
Else I see defiance in their pleas
And give Your soul a swift release!

So you can grope at someone’s feet!?
You whine, you meow, you moo and bleat;
Once propped up shoulders sagged and weak
(But still I’ll blow out your life-wick.)

Bang, bang…

Is this not you that turned away
When for your spare coins I would pray?
Did not your Bingo nip my heels,
While you watched cackling at my peals?

Don’t grovel now – the time’s long gone,
Don’t call me Sire, don’t call me son!
Have you not heard the sages say,
“Every dog, sure, will have his day!”

Bang, bang, bang.

Author: admin

I am a member of the WRR editorial team.

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