Hanging on the time line,
blowing in the wind,
chasing away the cobwebs,
brushing off my dreams,
dusting cakes for nibbling,
by all those mice and men,
and kids that cry,
when all the gossip mongers,
they hang you out to dry.

there are however, true friends,
you doubt, you'll ever meet,
one or two are rather weird,
some of them keep you endeared
pasting on their walls,
one or two or three of them,
just talk a load of *****.
(C) Livvi