W.O.R.D.S.

W.O.R.D.S.

Words won’t scratch an itch
Words can’t lick a wound
Words won’t pull your mother from a ditch
And in music they take back seat to tune

Words won’t pay the bills
Words can’t feed the kids
Words won’t cure your grandma ‘s ills
And in stone they do state what God forbids

They’re a Way Of Relaying Data Somehow
A Way Of Relating Dreams
In a WORD they’re What Our Readers Devour
And What One’s Reality Deems
WORDS are Ways One Replaces Doing, See?
And they’re sent When Old Relatives Die
What’s the thing we keep With Out Real Dependability
In a World Outspoken Realms Deny

Words can make you rich
Words will make a woman swoon
Words can make a man laugh, become a sales pitch,
Or make an aging poet rhyme rings round the moon