I am the pip in your apple.
I am the cloud in your sky.
I am the air that you breathe in and out.
I am the tear in your eye.

I am the reason you're weeping.
I am the season you love.
I am your favourite colour.
I am the sun up above.

I am the coin in your treasure.
I am the prize in your win.
I am the drought in your river of doubt.
I am your heartbeat within.

Your teeth are the colour of off milk.
Your odour is of rancid butter.
I see you and I feel sorry for everyone that you spitter on.
I'm sorry for your loss.

You took the **** from the current.
You wiped the floor with your wit.
You helped yourself to the hate on the shelf.
And now you're left stirring the ****.

You put the bad in the *****.
You took the **** out of me.
Your bitterness trait, your mouth spouting hate.
I'm done with you, now let me be.

You **** the life from the living.
You should just walk to the door.
Exit stage right, with your hypocrite *****.
Your company needed no more.

So glad I got that off my chest now.
New chapter, we're clear, no more stress now.
So beat it - retreat, turn sour into sweet.
Our future no longer depressed now.

I never remembered needing you.
Or craving your hand on my back
I never surrendered to love
I intended to never be broken, in fact.
I never had dreamt that I'd long for your touch,
And oftentimes thought I was stronger.
But days without seeing and crazily being
The one who was needed no longer.
I'll hold up my hand when you choose and demand that I be by your side on this journey.
But hopes have been halted, my heart strings assaulted,
By truths and decisions that hurt me.
I'll heal and take glory
That I'm in your story
And hopefully thought of with care.
We said we could try.
I'm sad it's goodbye.
It's now that my heart can repair.

The apple of one's eye.
The creme de la creme.
The buffet at the wedding.
Where it's us and them.

The glow of the neon.
Instructing us to buy.
The latest moisturiser
For wrinkles round the eye.

The canvassers cold selling.
The need of starving cats.
The aforementioned wedding.
The shopping for the hats.

So come give us your money.
Your precious hard earned cash.
We'll offer you perfection.
In your supermarket dash.

The things you'll buy tomorrow.
Are better than today.
The new improved conditioner.
The advertisements say.

Consumers to be nourished.
Big spenders treated well.
You'll need a coat for winter.
And scarves and coats as well.

Your funeral arrangements.
A monthly simple plan.
Your loved ones fear when you're not here.
You've left them all you can.

So now our claws are in you.
Please kindly move along.
The facts and claims are always true.
We're seldom told we're wrong.

We're business types converting.
Your little wants to needs.
We'll squeeze you dry until you die.
From birth we plant the seeds.

Margaret Murray, the one with the glasses.
The psychic, the mystic, her tarot card classes.
Told Sheila her mangoes​ were ready to eat.
Told Mary her cousin'd be back on his feet.

Beverley Spence was a sceptic, tough cookie.
In seeing her fortune snapped up by the ******.
Decided to tell her her ulcer would heal.
It's better than sharing with friends what was real.

Patty was eager to hear from her mother.
Jessie bereft at the loss of her brother.
Beatrice needed the skills of a healer.
For Margaret saw death and she would not reveal her -

True destiny seen in the cards at the clubby.
Preventing a scene with her hard drinking hubby.

£20 fortunes, no refunds, no worries.
There's no better tarot than Margaret Murray's.

I am my Mother's son.
She shines where darkness prevails.
She lights up a room like a comet.
She soothes where illness ails.

I am my Mother's son.
Through troubled days ahead.
The constant love throughout my life.
Where sunshine fears to tread.

I am my Mother's son.
She's the moon and stars, you see.
The warmth and kindness of a saint.
The reason I am me.