Frenchmen once said that a man is defined by his beard not his hands or the size of his heart
A man is someone who you can wake up at two a.m and expect him to not wake unless you put an *** in his face
Then it's a debate, whether the *** is great
But of course he'll proceed to sleep when that's been made clear because a man needs his rest like.. everyone else.
But don't think men are like everyone, we are nothing like others except like every other man who owns a pair of gloves
Why gloves you may ask, well it's simple
Our wives got them to us for christmas, doesn't mean we wear them but we own them and that itself is a reason to be a proud man for we have achieved a family who spends money on things we'll never use and who needs money when you got a three year old kid who calls you daddy when you come home from golfing.
And there's your wife, asking preference for dinner and we sure love some chicken but today he kinda feels like eating out because a man will always get what he wants.

Have you heard about the guy
Who never goes outside
Windows covered with blinds
Only a dim light burning inside
Neighbours wonder what's on his mind.

Truth be told
He doesn't know
Why was he born
Where should he go
When so little has been exposed
And all he was told
Is to not let the darkness get a hold
For that he has to stay alone
Accompanied by the movies from the 90s
Starring with Sylvester Stallone.

Porcelain tears piercing through
Clouded, profounded, steps taken further
Identity ******
Worse that could happen
Trap doors, sealed exits
Complexity overdue
Overtaken
Shaken in his boots
Roots go back, untrackable
Black is the shade she liked
Black is what tore them apart.

Heart shaped bandages, branded by her lips
Tulips in the winter printed midsummer
Split ends, defendant in position
Opposed, proposed, handful of roses
Not the flowers
Not in his power.

Bland taste
Another weekend has been wasted
Every bar in the corner, his mind is sober
Stays unbreakable, stays to be let down
Piloting the journey from passenger seat
Observing, not really knowing what's in front of him
Needs a trim to take control
But can't get a hold
Can't find his soul nor the calling to try any harder.

A barber doesn't cut it
Storms are blowing, unfolding the nature that's him
Undeserving of the kind
Blind to others who share the same set of fate
And when they call out a name
She says it's him who's to blame
Hence the pain, waves of migraine
Keeping her up for days
Because regardless of his actions
He's who she fell for
He's who she secretly keeps under her pillow
To never forget that she's a widow.

Another cake turned into a lie
Sweet nothing is all that it contained
Expired ingredients or fault in the recipe
Have i overcooked and burned you off
Left your feelings in the garbage dump
Tossed a cherry on the top when it could have been used
To make things right
I really want this cake to work out
Be my Ramsay, teach me cooking
Together we can do it.

Starving for your skin, thin straps on the shoulders, undone
Removed, one by one
Smooth and fresh, taste of a pineapple from the shower
Yet to be dried
Falling droplets, sound of an ocean, making waves
Creating a hurricane, unnamed
Unborn but sure to become
Crossing the sun for a rainbow, so colorful, so beautiful
Our *** of gold for both of us to hold, and cherish
Until old, and you wonder
Why you never sold it.