The gentle Man
The gentle Man though one of lust
Is whistling only then,
When bonded in a veil of trust;
Not saved by many men
He holds the door for anyone,
He greets you as a fan.
He leaves a tip, he gets things done;
For he´s a gentleman.
A solid ground he offers those,
That tumbled, fought and fell,
When crashing waves of life went lose
And drowned all hopes of dwell.
He is the wall of steady stone,
His body fortified.
No hatred ever moves his bone.
His father lives and died.
His fist, well feared, the burning flame
A nourished by a demon force
Has never struck, but in a game
No human and no horse
Right in his pocket rests all hell
Five-fingered, clutched and nailed,
Yet he is calm 'cause let me tell
At him the devil failed.
His love is pure, is deep, is true.
The last a weapon still,
That pierces hearts like him and you
That crushes people´s will.
His tongue a blade he slowly cuts
Away the cancer lie
By breathing words with courage-guts
That hurt, that kill, revive.