WALK LIKE A MAN
RHYS BERK
Walk like a man You hate the man Who walks like a king Because he is mud And he can’t accept He is mud or Gum picked condescendingly Off shiny leather spat-heels. You’ll tap cigarette ash Soon enough. And He’ll sit and sneer As he puffs a big Fat Cuban cigar. You’ll try and baby A Scotch. And He’ll scold and scowl While he pours It thick, neat in a tumbler. Walk like a man Or big bag of bones Because soon enough When they pick Your teeth out of The steering wheel, He’ll be the one to Pick the ornament out Of your head. 38
