You said I didnt care
You threw dirt in my face
You offered me words
No angel could erase
But what of your war
And to your greatest dismay
I was born in a storm
In the merry month of May
So best of luck if you do
Want to spin that wheel that we knew
Your calibre is not above
Your rent is not approved
You hated I had a stick
You remain quite sick
Your answer is your own doom
And for you I have no room
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