Untitled, by Thomas Frymark

Now what I got

I got in my head

And I don’t offer much

But I don’t beg

I sit, say I’m sorry, sir

Spent my money

Sang and sighed, sure

Rambled through town

On my way round

Nothing to do

Following hounds

People often say

Choke chain blues

Will make you pay

Got to work

Got to pay those dues

Choke chain blues

It’s on the news –

People often say

There’s no way to pay

For the freedom you should have

And the time that you don’t

The choke chain noose

Money buys the blues

A chain for your throat

And not just for the hope

That something will be better

But you got to pay –

Got to pay those dues

Society’s blues

The choke chain tunes

I’ve been told too many times

About the choke chain blues

When the proof fails to show

The drunks sing their songs

Psychologists sit and stare

A journey for the young

To walk and wander along

Philosophy prevails, purpose

Purpose prevails, problems

The drugs fill the pupils

A larger and larger hole

To fall through your head

And the proof will show

The drunks sing their songs

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