A WORLD CUP WINNING FORMULA The prophet was fit And a natural born leader He would have enjoyed soccer He might have even played it,

I am from un-made beds and clothes everywhere except for my closet. From jewelry and hairpins tangled in the carpet Along with clothes-hangers and markers

The truth was poison, Bitter to the tongue, toxic and hard to swallow. So you lied. Your lies borrowed from the pleasant, From all that