Tic-tac-toe
three in a row,
he swings hard,
alarm bells go,
a knife and knife
a circular ring
who's got the guts
to come clean?

Slurry of blows,
slurry of speech,
maybe there's more
to being a leech,
a man made of pride
a man made of sorrow
what's a man to do
when he can no longer borrow?