The Immortal Wize
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life
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Standing outside
Railing by myside
Holding on to
Too much pride
Help, don’t ask
Don’t know why
Can’t ask for it
So many no’s
Don’t equal yes
It’s always best
To do it myself
With myself
By myself
Logically
On a scale
1, 2, 3
That’s no way
To be, I know
But, arithmetically
It adds up to free
My mind
My peace
Sipping ginger tea
In an OLD NAVY fleece
Just making beats
Don’t call police
Will be done by 10
Maybe 3am
At least
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