TS (03/24/1978 / Mass)

Get Thee Behind Me...Myself.

Get thee behind me...
myself.
Taketh the breath I
expell...and damn it
all to hell.
My shoes are tight...
and damn the change
I spent.
I know now the weight
I carry... I should have
paid my rent.
Damn that boy...
he decieves me.
He know I want him staring...
solemnly comparing...
my shoes, to my heights...
and I can't soar.
Get thee behind me...
myself.
Where is the smile that
laid on me, and my damning
shoes...of colors so bright
and dreaming...
have my poor feet screaming.
But I confess, nonetheless...
I look good.
Get thee behind me...
myself.
I can strut, and shake it...
and lo I can fake it.
I am annoyed and deployed,
to send my pheromones
over...come red rover.
My four leaf clover.
My timid lover.
Get thee behind me...
myself.

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