I say this with the best of intentions

 

Just because this is a farfetched version of a random reality,

This does by no means mean that there is no truth in this.

I say this with the best of intentions, with no aim to harm,

you with your once broken nose and knotted manes all twisted.

 

With your bohemian life style and you smoke filled dreams;

No malice intended here, by me, and no pun neither.

Your with your rowdy friends and your late night brawls;

with your smell of booze and your `don´t give a fuck` air.

 

I don´t like to nag you see, or get mistaken for one who stalks.

I follow you around without no other purpose but to stare,

watch your dark secret grow, seeing the hand of time caress your face;

I do peek around the corner and see your life flash before my eyes.

 

I have no hidden agenda to speak of, I won´t get that near,

but I listen to your wicked words and offbeat laughter,

and hear the lies behind you back, the snide remarks

of people that dare come close, only to stand in you shade.

 

They pay your beers and eat you empty, distorting their pain

and the fragile line between friend and foe with dry eyes.

Again, I say this with the best of intentions and with no will to judge,

you, with your wild ways and slurred speech at the break of dawn.

 

You who snores the days away, the light I which I earn my crust,

with no dreams to taunt you as they do haunt me down, now.

Watch your watery eyes waking without a single question,

your ´I know it all´ view never meant to acknowledge me.

 

I have no score to settle here, nor bone to pick clean,

when you strut your stuff through the hoi polloi,

rub shoulders with the bourgeoisie, untouched by it all,

no stumble, no falter or hint of ascending decay.

 

As your nefarious soul hides behind that nicotine stench,

I stare at mine in the crumpled up, once pristine, white paper.

In my designated no smoke zone, knowing full well, by heart by now,

the This I want to print bold so desperately, like a primal scream.

 

I dare not for fear to make it so, I will not bemock the wise.

Still, I would stand in better stead, even in my scrawny sight,

if there is truth in the equation the sages will have us belief,

the painful consequence then will be, you equals me.