Friends why am I full of words that need to be born
Yet when I squeeze the pen they come out deformed
I do really love books even though I’ve been on the borderline
Thinking whether to stab that dictionary through the spine and let
it bleed its black blood

Sorry my dear friend I’ve forgotten your unusual name
Its just slipped off my tongue I’ll try and find it again
I know your name’s written right at the top of your dusty file the
question is which part of the brain where in what aisle?
Oh if I could I would yes take your file down

I have been questioned by intellectuals putting me in the dock
Yet in their head they locked me in a wooden box
Who cares if when they go to the library they take a small cart
Don’t be a pseudo intellectual that’s got no heart
I know its time for them to change the way they think

Man looks on the outside but my God looks at the heart
Man looks on the outside but my God looks at the heart