Words words words
Will they never suffice
William Shakespeare
Could create me a world
With nothing at all
But his malleable words
And next to him
I am but a bumbling fool
Destined to suffer
While you smile
And toss your charm about
Like yesterdays trash
If I had command
Of my twisting tongue
And bruised red lips
I would make you fall in love
With nothing but my pretty
Words words words.