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But what’s the point of writing pretty words?
A poem never fed a hungry kid
The poem on the page that’s left unheard
Won’t take away the damage others did
The garbage has to be still taken out
The laundry room is looking like a mess
The tiles in the bathroom crumbling grout
And poems won’t do anything for stress
This foolishness is just a waste of time
You’re better off just getting back to work
And giving up your thoughts of making rhyme
Forget about all this acting like a jerk
The Catcher in the Rye had showed the way
So Lennon had to feel the price to pay