I want to make you love him.
But I probably can’t.
I mean, these words never did work
quite as well on you
as they did on everyone else.
But anyways, he doesn’t get high;
and will only drink in moderation.
He hates his homework
and he does it anyways. Besides,
you shouldn't overlook how hard
he tries to try his best.
I know he’s not an artist;
He’s not Picasso, Neruda,
or Warhol. He’s not
Marley or Lennon
or Socrates.
Fuck, he’s not even me. But
lets not lie to ourselves;
we all know that’s probably
for the best.
So he’s not the greatest speaker;
remember that there are far worse things to lack
than the innate ability to mumble an intriguing conversation.
He’ll do what he supposed to,
bring home bacon and milk.
He was raised to believe that would make you happy.
How can you blame him for that?
Don’t misunderstand me:
don’t compromise your societal values,
don’t stray from your personal morals,
just consider you might not be so different,
I mean, most people aren’t.
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