They ain’t gonna see me.
I ain’t gonna let em.
Who they to d’mand.
I give and I gives freely
To those I see fit.
Not you loathsome sonso’bitches.

Heart afire, embers glowing, buried deep.
What’s the point if we all gonna die anyway?
To live, honey, now stop your cryin’ and
Grow your baby Cynder Lynn.

Hard heart, come back to momma,
You don’t need all them, just that one,
And memories of long, puckered scars that
Shine beautifully in you mind.

I have laughed deeply, and I will continue to do so.
Because the world is beautiful in body and fleet of heart,
And I care.