No. Yes. No. No. Shut up. Let go. Go. Just go.
Leave me alone. I can’t stand it anymore. Out the door. The kids are torn.
It’s a storm. And the umbrella’s gone. Just like my trust. My home.
You’re just a painful sore. Itch it again. Scratch away the pain. You just won’t go away.
Laugh again. We’ll bury our hatred With bags of heavy gold That we can’t afford yet
Burn our bills In big rubber bags Light them on fire The gold we never had
Oh, I remember the days when we would laugh together and Smile at the day’s stories Our young love; Romeo and Juliet but Without the gore that killed the play, The poison that swallowed their love, The knife that would fuel our strife.
We were still broke, But our hearts were bespoke. No kids to cry, it was Young innocent happy-lolly-dolly-candy-couple love; Happy love, Forever etch-my-initial-into-a-tree kind of love.
Yes. No. Yes. Yes. Okay. I’ll let go. I’ll go. Just go.
And I went outside where the trees grew brand new, Where the spring flowers smelt like the newest new husband With whom I’ll romantically rendezvous— Or not. Time to go find El Dorado so that I can refuse giving another poor man my hand. Yes, I will follow Dorothy’s yellow brick road because I hate men with a passion, and to be honest I’d much rather bank a good 100 grand: My true golden love and lifelong passion.
