TYRONE SHAKESPEARE
A tear begets my eye
Chambers of thy heart are filled with pain
Only to awaken and realize
That she’s back again
She yells
Romeo Romeo!!
For were art thou Romeo?
But I donst heareth that
Trying to hang with my homeyo
Watch the football game
Or shootest a game of pool
My fair maiden Juliet
She calls me such a foolish fool
Shouldest she be last on my to do list
Her naggin’ is not which upon thy wished
We used to frolick in the taverns
And bare thyselves in the brush
But her constant talking is a bad pattern
I forgoeth and wisheth she would hush
Shalts thou not complain
As thine strumpeth driveth me insane
Shalts thou taketh out the trash
After morning and evening hath passed
And thine bones acheth from the field
When after this time hath passed
She not even maketh a meal
Washed and foldeth thine swallows and rags
Thine scarlet of a woman hath becometh a drag
Gold coin she haveth not
No swine upon the table she bringeth
It’s her that I needeth not
Tonight she shall blowest amongst the wind
In the morn I shalst move on
A tear begets my eye
Chambers of thy heart are filled with pain
Only to awaken in the morning
And realize
That she cometh back again.
Damn.
J. AMEER
Chambers of thy heart are filled with pain
Only to awaken and realize
That she’s back again
She yells
Romeo Romeo!!
For were art thou Romeo?
But I donst heareth that
Trying to hang with my homeyo
Watch the football game
Or shootest a game of pool
My fair maiden Juliet
She calls me such a foolish fool
Shouldest she be last on my to do list
Her naggin’ is not which upon thy wished
We used to frolick in the taverns
And bare thyselves in the brush
But her constant talking is a bad pattern
I forgoeth and wisheth she would hush
Shalts thou not complain
As thine strumpeth driveth me insane
Shalts thou taketh out the trash
After morning and evening hath passed
And thine bones acheth from the field
When after this time hath passed
She not even maketh a meal
Washed and foldeth thine swallows and rags
Thine scarlet of a woman hath becometh a drag
Gold coin she haveth not
No swine upon the table she bringeth
It’s her that I needeth not
Tonight she shall blowest amongst the wind
In the morn I shalst move on
A tear begets my eye
Chambers of thy heart are filled with pain
Only to awaken in the morning
And realize
That she cometh back again.
Damn.
J. AMEER
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