The Batchelor

The Batchelor

You grew
up

In a
safe neighborhood

Into a
fine boy

The muscles
supple

And the
mind keen

You made
your way

Watchin sports
& movies

Colorin your
hair red

And a
stud in
your ear

The girls
and the
fast cars

Bringin you
joy

Now you
are a
man

You must
strike n
earn

Your pot
of god

You get
into the
grind

Of the
machines
& time

Lose yourself
somewhere

Now the
old age

Bearin on
you

With no
one around

You must
bid adieu

To life
& into
the arms
of death

Caution: This might be all theory

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