Am I the last man thinking words
Can overcome your hesitance,
May circumvent your maiden steel,
Too polished by your fingernails?
I'll drop your walls like Jericho,
If syllables can keep the beat,
And slide their music into you.
I'll wake your rhythm, legs askew.

Your skepticism's understood;
Good men are rare, a lot's been said,
So you go disappointment prone,
Distrusting things that you've been told,
Inhaling lines and downing wine,
Forgetting us, sublime--supine.