What you gonna do

when your foot finds it's way

in your mouth, no matter what

the measure you take

to keep it out,

well, when you find this out,

what you gonna do,

can you give me a clue

so I might do it too.....

And what you gonna do

when the words finally flow

but you know writing do

them justice more than they know,

than what's come out of your mouth,

but you said them so loud,

well, when you figure it out,

can you give me a clue

so I might learn from you....

and what you gonna do

when he takes all you say

and do and try, yet come up short

every single day,

do you give up & pray,

or do you love him and say

the words he wants you to,

can you give up some clues

so I might copy it too...

Mom says she's gonna die

every day

and well, I say inside, I say

maybe today

she'll take the glory from

the God's given gift, the sun,

and paint her canvas with love

instead of wishing for what

she told us never to say....

Well, what Love gonna do

when the mood finds it's way

deep, dark and under the groove

that Hate let under the stray

undercurrent from old days,

I think Love might be OK

and when She survives the day

I'll keep my notes by the way

so I can do what She say....

What I'm gonna do

when my foot finds it's way

right back inside my mouth,

least I'll be good at this game

and maybe keep it out,

like stopping hate at the spout,

well, when I figure it out,

maybe I'll give you the news

and do like Love got me through...

Copyright Rose Loya 2008