Goddamn The Envelope Pusher Man

Son-of-a-bitch would not leave

Well enough alone.

He’d improve this.

Upgrade that.

Like a dawg huntin’ for a bone.

There was no Wait!

Hold the phone!

Ifa need be, go it alone.

Nothin’, nowhere to atone.

A lonely man.

With the only hand.

Clenched tight upon life’s rudder.

He knew there was no other.

If it was to be

Even he could see

It was him or no one at all…

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