Price Tag on The Bushwhack

Avishek Sahu
November 19, 2016

Swirling your long locks to whiff me through the bad deal
That I had to be signing on to see me pinching her zeal
That you’ve been up gazing down to plot me through the mishaps
With the pawns of your madness feeding me their sweet schnapps
The smile that you once flashed at me, I knew you were some big shot
With the bosses oh so humdrum falling all about to be your tot
When the time to spend the money got creeping up their sobriety
And the charms of this menace had them do away with propriety
It was all so weary that I wondered what’s the fuss about
When the lady with the sexed accent thought me really worth a pout
But then I got to look back on the day I pined for your crack
When you called yourself dirty, and I heard a price tag on the bushwhack

That was when I knew I had to spend the days in slumber
With a pocket so leaky I wouldn’t make it as a plumber
Nor a mason like figure your sweetie had a crush on
For popping down the cherries that you were seen hanging on
That was when I figured out the way to swat the likes of you
And the new world order you were peddling fast to scare me blue
Oh what an army and a general to guard your vile killer charms
With just a page full of cant they got slaughtered on their own farms
Now the urge to feel your dirt ain’t making me queasy
Your accent is my mirth but I wouldn’t dare call you sleazy
For then I get to look back on the day I pined for your crack
When you called yourself dirty, and I heard a price tag on the bushwhack

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