Work becomes routine, making money, second job, third job, side hustle
In the end, to live, the end justifies the means, we work for money
Life gets hard with stress, some people will do strange things to make a living
Leave their own families for extended periods of time, the bustle
Yet, the bonds of love stay strong in the face of work and earning a buck
Only once a year do adults act like children, plans to make honey
Understand others suffer the horrors of love, the unforgiving
Brutality passed down from father to his sons, how they treat women
Each person decides to accept or to reject this right way to fuck
Maybe violence is okay if no one talks, no one trusts, nor feels
Yesterday, I spoke with a friend who was attacked and kicked in the back
Violence persists in the minds of certain men who kick up their heels
And strike women down with impunity, blameless of such an attack
Lend me your good ear to hear, you don't want to hear, taste of persimmon
Each man makes a choice, to act this way or not, choose or act out in kind
No one enjoys blood, bruises, broken bones, their lives destroyed in minutes
Take a look within as conscience shines a bright light in the cave of screams
If you read these words, the choir rarely does harm, a kick in the guts
No man worth his salt acts this way but yes, they do, not just in their dreams
Even online games, "Will you be my Valentine?" Make certain men blind
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