There was once a hit
That could not get it
The hit was too hip
And the air was too thin
As a heir to succession
He did try to win
But could not climb the game
Towards friends and fame
On the bottom of the ladder
He sat without smile
And kept sitting there
As troubles did pile
And when troubles snapped double
He sat in rubble
A bit troubled and vile
Yet he sat there in style
With sins on the outside
And outsides torn in
Mourning the south side
In morningborn wind
With a mouth the size of
The Eifel tower
For his side in, waiting
Outside. |