Limbs of a Dismembered Poet

Strike out Become a man Daddy’s money in your hand Go your own way Make your name Another million down the drain Take the world It’s yours to brand Carve another Son and heir Nothing there You’re the one to bring us to the edge Will you buy my cure? Who will buy my cure? Will you buy my cure? Here, the coyotes; Don’t you make a fine dinner! Come and eat, come and eat... Grow up fit, fit to gather Fit to hunger, fit to fight Come and eat, come and eat Come and eat, come and eat...