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Every man, every mind...
Our men and sons are unemotionally ill
Using one side of the brain
The curse and not the gifts,
And no wonder they can't maintain
Their hate, their fate, so they let the trigger bust off
Their ego never go soft, and tears never drop
Playing games to help their physical love increase
Only to decrease when it gets too strong
His heart beating too long...
Boys don't get mature, they finally get some heart
Some joy, some sympathy, stuff they never had
That don't come wrapped in that brown paper bag,
And if you look hard, it's sad...
Because some men don't have what keeps them breathing
...A Heart *
