Sour feelings for the struggle
Sweetness due to our success
Never the less
It is forever unrecognized
As we play fiddle
Play a woman
Never playing against the odds
Beliefe not in our own power
But solely from the mighty dollar
Life has become destructive
We now will neal
Forever reaching while they look down at us yelling hooting and hollering
You are worth nothing
Our souls are all the same
With this burden we carry
It should projected not onto each other but to the opponent
William K. Butler
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