A roach on each click of the tongue
A venemous snake to make up every rung
I climb and ascend, in pursuit of this art
Lo, symphony crickets inside of my heart

An unheard soliloquy hissed
Another scant opportunity missed
Once a shit-sandwich baker, I filled the table
How shall I make empty pantry palatable?

My clipped ears show the obvious signs
Of a bitch who’s exceeded her prime
Yea, I have no home but the ring now
Soon to only feed young as the puppy chow

Viet Cong had so little to fight for
Yet they won, despite all the folklore
So I’ll do an about-face and fight for this place
That the next gen have something to die for.