The Doomed Man Understands
Barroom Hero
Posts: 76
The Doomed Man Understands
John Kennedy
Tell me your troubles tomorrow
When I have more time to borrow.
Because few are living quite as bad
As the poor who sleep in sorrow.
They lose to the hourly pangs
Of addiction’s deep, fatal fangs.
Sinking its teeth they lose power;
Long Satan’s tongue eerily hangs.
Why should I tell those poor to repent
When it is I whose love goes unspent?
I fail to thank the Lord for loving gifts
Assuming they were like air’s subtle shifts.
I am no better than the addicted
Who sleeps in his box, so afflicted.
Though he sleeps in pain for one night
Long I will sleep in Satan’s sight.
Maybe it's a bit religious. Sure, it's a lot religious!
John Kennedy
Tell me your troubles tomorrow
When I have more time to borrow.
Because few are living quite as bad
As the poor who sleep in sorrow.
They lose to the hourly pangs
Of addiction’s deep, fatal fangs.
Sinking its teeth they lose power;
Long Satan’s tongue eerily hangs.
Why should I tell those poor to repent
When it is I whose love goes unspent?
I fail to thank the Lord for loving gifts
Assuming they were like air’s subtle shifts.
I am no better than the addicted
Who sleeps in his box, so afflicted.
Though he sleeps in pain for one night
Long I will sleep in Satan’s sight.
Maybe it's a bit religious. Sure, it's a lot religious!
Liberal Douchebags that Blame Bush for Everything are Useless Pieces of Trash. I Shit on You.
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Comments
It echoes "King Lear", Act Three, Scene Four:
KING LEAR
What hast thou been?
EDGAR
A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled
my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of
my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with
her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and
broke them in the sweet face of heaven: one that
slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it:
wine loved I deeply, dice dearly: and in woman
out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of
ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth,
wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.
Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of
silks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep thy foot
out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen
from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend.
Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind:
Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny.
Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by.
Storm still
KING LEAR
Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer
with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies.
Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou
owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep
no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on
's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself:
unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare,
forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings!
come unbutton here.
Thank you.