After all these years
of having pen in hand
Being high on ideas
and low on demand
Writing the same lines
over again and again
Throwing in a new noun
where an old verb had been

There's nothing new
under the sun
The sky is still blue
the North has still won
I still talk with a draw
before I've even begun
In the spitting of words
where I'm just having fun

Never had any problems
deep in my soul
Where the dark side of me
takes over control
A Pulitzer prize
has never once been my goal
I just like to rhyme
with the stories I've told

So if you'll please pardon me
as I get back to my pen
I feel another poem
is trying to let itself in
Like every other time
this is how it begins
After all these years
of having pen in hand