Simple

Everyone needs to live with themselves
So can't we all know the pain of
Rejection
It's easy to feel sorry for the man
Who trips in the rain
What about the annoying pain in the arse?
Does anyone care about them
When they come home?
What of the hoon bellowing in the bar
His friends all laugh at him
He's their fool
What is he inside when he's all alone though
Does he sit on his bed and fling his body back raucously and in triumph
Or does he sit on the beside
And stare into the cupboard mirror
And sink seeing the rolls his polo top can't conceal and the beads of sweat
On his chest, palm and head
How long might he look
And how might he talk inside
Because we all talk inside
And think deeply
You say no though what of those
Simple folk well I chuckle at such an
Answer but it won't be kind sort of laugh
It'll be bitter and long because I know
that sadly
Inside none of us are very simple at all.