They like to see me squirm,
as they cheer from afar.
Eating butterflies for breakfast,
it’s about the nice car.
Some dream of being rich,
others desire fame.
They wake before they see,
walking naked in the rain.
The mirror doesn’t lie,
for you or the others.
Standing side-by-side,
me and your brothers.
Say what you mean,
mean what you say.
We can’t go alone,
down the back lit highway.
dead beat poet 