They say you can grow up to become what ever you want to be but I’ll tell you what thats completely wrong if you want to become a tree

The pop gun out law rode from town to town on his steed he’d ride wearing his hat like a crown his name they would call

His pencil would not write No matter how much he would scold… “It’s not about the pencil boy” “It’s about the one who holds it”

My friend dared me once To get a hair cut He agreed in return To get punched in the gut I grabbed my scissors

Who cares when you dance It’s not to the beat Your claps aren’t timed And you stomp your feet Be the first to dance

There’s a secret to life Though no one can keep it It’s shaped many of men All those who have seen it It’s been written by scholars

Theres a key to happiness The man said as he rocked “But if theres a key to happiness Why would they keep it locked”

The things I must do Oh the things I must do I must polish the dishes And wash my shoes The things I must do

This mouths for sale, this mouths… Please I’m willing to barter This mouths for sale, this mouths… Running it’s easy, selling it’s ha… This mouths for sale, this mouths…

A poem’s a poem If it ends in a rhyme A poet’s a poet If he writes in spare time A poet grows famous

Someone left out this nice metal b… It warm inside and not even locked I crawled in the box and decided t… But awoke to find I was covered i…

I’ve decided to write a poem Where everything rhymed with time It would become a famous poem And the jealous would cringe As I called it mine

You can hide it in make up But I know it’s still there A face designed Only to scare You can try to distract me