Bob thinks that he got good taste,
When his wordplay throws fits,
Seizures, eyes rolling, 'cause the gameplay's non-exists.
A lady, his fable, he's a superman with no kick,
As his pockets burn to cinders, a broke boy who only wanted a kiss
From a lady he painted, but that's not the way life is.
So he hungers and sits deep in his feelings all again.

© K_The_Lyricist