How dare you judge me?
You with your flimsy morals
That are wilted like a parched tree.
With me you dare pick your quarrels?

You with your flimsy morals,
They change with each passing tide.
With me you dare pick your quarrels?
Me, who tells all bona fide?

They change with each passing tide,
Those ideals of yours.
Me, who tells all bona fide,
I can air dirty laundry out of doors.

Those ideals of yours,
That are wilted like a parched tree.
I can air dirty laundry out of doors.
How dare you judge me?

10/19/2006

Posted on 10/19/2006
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