Never learn to trust your own betraying tongue
When it leads with the weight of your bruised shoulders
What is there to surmise from the situation? None.
But somehow the summer airs get colder and colder
So do not introduce me yet to that impatient crowd
You know that I hate it when I have to speak aloud
There’s a chemical reaction to mind nuclear division
And it stifles my system short and delays my emotion
The reaction is too consequential and almost allergic
The microphone toppling with a dissonant hysteric
And the ears they lent seem to be made of plasticine
Sobering up a sold silken sonata like bad medicine
But still I won’t hide away with the stars just to rue
And fugacious flowery fade with my thoughts unsung
And if I really want the audience to either clap and boo
Then I will really have to learn to trust my own tongue.