How come I always gotta be the one to sell your corn
Was this the purpose for which I was born?
All day long and in the afternoon heat
"Fresh young corn here, Tender and Sweet!"
Shouting at pedestrians from dawn to dusk
After which I still must clean up the husks
Well, I'm all of fourteen, and I'm built for lovin'
Instead of standin' on the corner of this shit brick oven
Daddy--
How come we gotta be so poor?
An' how come our trailer has no screen door?
One thing I love, between two I'm torn
My love for you, Daddy, and my hatred for corn
Family farmin' and roadside merchandising
Corn stalks are blocking my future's horizon
Can't leave now, Darling, harvest is coming
Well, I just can't take it, so I better start thumbing
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.