The same cologne's been mocking me
for thirteen years and counting
calling me a fool to think
it'll ever stop that stench.
Putrid comes to mind
and the nostrils of the players.
Who could blame them for the face?
I know the look because I've given it.
I know the trend because I started it
or at least made it explode.
And what of your list of Good Intentions?
It's a float soon forgotten
in the Macy's Day Parade.
So aside from Polo Sport bottles
Chinese food fortunes have piled up
in my room since high school
with the stubborn hope
that one of them is mine.
And I tell ye, brothers
that the man who fails is the man without a system
though more often than not
it's the man whose system
does not allow for change.
I've had my shirt picked out since Tuesday.
Bear with me, I'm a pisces.
The forked tongue that you notice
is the product of erosion:
It's not the asp that stung them;
it's the reason that they came.
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