A Little White Establishment

A Little White Establishment

Giving the short end of the stick
Right through their teeth.
Taking the water right out of me
With a Tissue of Tomorrow:
In cahoots with my agony--
Pulling my leg, and a fast one at that, because it has none!
A business of monkeys making wool for my eyes,
I'm hoping it saves me from the dirt thrown in them.
I'm being taken for this ride
Trying to see past smoke and mirrors.
There would have to be something to bend or stretch,
But it's been ripped off, yanked
Along with my chain.
The scales fell off from its eyes,
Away from the rug that it speaks like.
And it speaks like it breathes,
Crying Wolf,
As crooked as a bucket of fish tales.
Its practice is as sharp as the grain of salt
I can take its words for,
I am not big enough to throw the establishment,
But I can trust it however far that is,
It is as full of hot air, blowing smoke from the tombstone that it is.


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