I have a fancy and fame is against me
Everything I did for a day went wrong.
My song wasn’t on the radio and my boyfriend wasn’t available
The phone call wasn’t my longing and my belongings didn’t fit in.
Now that is I’m fit with the joggercise and with it
The kids are looking better with my age, not his.
The random card night and player card shark
Is my concern with the future of what’s his.
Would I have owned my children if he didn’t get me?
For land in the past and expensive families.
Was it fair demotion of my emotions all my quiet youth?
To have to regress with psychiatrist around to the unknown when I was uncouth?
I zip my jeans when the other’s button flied
What’s in my eyes with the Old Testament name and ‘Levi’.
My fame that day didn’t fit for the flab
That inconsiderately caressed my waist after last night’s dinner address – across the table.

Ownership
Fame at T.V. meals isn’t Abel.
What crap did you swallow for the bird Eve to leave you hollow?
Destroying meaning and feeling isn’t clever
The Tomahawk is more than sin.