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Bringin' the House Down
They think me the belligerent fool,
The luvstruck pup, in puddled drool.
Not seeing the claws to my mess,
For I leave no will to impress.
But hate me for it, that they will,
As I bring those juices to spill:
And take from them their sacred prize,
To watch what faces can't disguise.
As upon me I feel the eyes,
Hear the whispers, and too, the sighs;
The seethe ‘neath a Bourbon cast glance
I won’t chalk up to happenstance.
Oh, I came here arms opened wide,
Though all but silence was denied.
And still I pass those faces firm,
Knowing inside just how they squirm.
Can taste the hate of someone spurned,
Oh yes, indeed someone’s been burned
Just by my traipsing right on through,
And doing what us bad dawgs do.
Not one here brave enough to share
What I’ve thrown into disrepair,
They all still watch, silent and queer
The Shine of Darkness wafting near.
The scourge of all that they adore,
I dance solely for their deplore.
Oh, they cannot wish me away
To ever get back yesterday.
You’re ruin in motion, here I stand
Before all, silent, dark, and damned…
Product of such lesser renown,
Pleasure’s mine bringing your house down.
Michael Anderson
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