You want to be a don : A Song
Fight. You fight with all your might,
Behaving like a kite, swooping down in its flight.
Fight. With your fists tight; to any filthy height,
Till I am out of sight. Out of sight.
Scorn. All bloody things you scorn.
Till I feel forlorn; wonder why I was born?
Scorn. On my head sit upon, making me a moron.
You want to be a don, be a don.
Fight. You fight with all your might,
Behaving like a kite, swooping down in its flight.
Fight. With your fists tight; to any filthy height,
Till I am out of sight. Out of sight.
Ron