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When the night calls out |
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When the night calls out |
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When the night calls out |
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When the night calls out |
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When the night calls out |
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When the night calls out |
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When the night calls out |
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Living in a real life can never be how you picture it when young |
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There are times that others' praise is all that keeps you going |
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Years ago, more or less a decade my mind tells me I believe |
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They talked about my strong potential in the futures, now |
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My life has been a disappointment in most ways, to me if no one else |
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I'm nobody's dream girl, though maybe not a nightmare either |
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I've lost and gained so many times I've begun to wonder lately |
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How could I have strayed so far from what I wanted? |
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In the quiet of night |
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In the quiet of night |
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In the quiet of night |
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In the quiet of night |
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In the quiet of night |
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In the quiet of night |
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In the quiet of night |
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In the quiet of night |
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In life you gotta learn to do what you can |
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Never let the happy thoughts simply fade away |
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Life means you gotta fight to win your passage |
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Never let the happy thoughts simply fade away |
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How many lives must I begin again? |
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How many more times can I just stand back? |
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How many hopes can I watch be broken? |
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How many chances for me myself I? |
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How many people believe in me still? |
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How many folks think I have destiny? |
A poem and a statement all wrapped up in one tidy package. I wrote it this morning after a conversation with a friend... that really led to places that it shouldn't have but was a fun and entertaining conversation, anyway!
Rough, tough, and virile but not overly done.
Cute, kinda boyish, and short a few parts,
That's never dampered his pride in his farts,
This av'rage Joe at the bar playing darts.
Not quite the type to stay hooked on his phallus,
Neither the kind that would live in a palace.
Never been pretty, nor prone to poke fun,
When asked 'bout his past, won't cut and won't run --
Though he won't offer, he'll talk 'til he's done.
Tells of his time that he gave thought to the op,
Had one little problem, though, made him say, "Stop."
Heard 'bout a rumor that men can't get off,
Quite the same way that we girls! *smile and cough*
Better, and longer, and hassling the 'Hoff!
"Hey, wait just one minnit!" sez my manly friend,
"Just how is that fair? They've just got a dead end!
No frickin' way that I can tell Pastor."
Went to see Grandpa, Confucius Master,
Over his private, way big disaster!
He put to his ancestor his burning thought,
Then waited outside to see what had he wrought.
Worried and pondered and rubbed at his chin,
His grandfather's voice rung out 'bove the din,
'Dude lacking penis like shark with no fin!'
When Grandfather turned out whole lack of help,
He went to see mother -- not father, who'd yelp.
Spoke of the future and of his resolve,
(Argh! All the other things ending in -olve,
Mess with my story: revolve and involve...)
Sed, 'Surely salvation should be close at hand,
Know fear to dwell safely at home in this land.'
All in all Momma had words to becalm,
Then again mothers are always a balm,
Then she admitted she re-phrased a Psalm.
Our poor dear downtrodden and heroic boy,
Found him a storefront that sold an, um, er, toy.
Has his own lady -- don't misunderstan',
Knows of his problem and stands by her man,
Of his new toy she became a big fan.
He knew his decision to become a guy,
Would be lots of trouble but he had to try.
Their love life was stilted due to his lack,
And when his new toy was fun in the sack,
Two-headed dildoes became their new tack.
His one big regret in the life he'd not crave,
Was that he'd sure miss it, the 'riding the wave!'
This new improved tool be all he'd now need?
The idea was odd, but picking up speed,
His girlfriend, for sure, a beast that was freed!
I ask you, dear reader, is he less a dude?
He's scratching and belching, and sometimes quite crude!
I know a Transman who's witty and fun,
Rough, tough, and virile but not overdone,
This tale, though funny, is still a true one.
In my own opinion, he's still 'such a guy,'
Pulls pranks on his fellas, like, "Zip up your fly!"
Sad fact remains that he hasn't a schlong,
But calling him 'girl' is just plain dead wrong,
His logic for non-op: a needless dong.
His solution's elegant and quite refined,
His mammaries cut off, so no need to bind,
Nothing inserted where sun never shines,
He doesn't have what it takes to make signs,
In the fresh snowfall unless it's with Heinz.
A lot of guys out there may think that it's sick,
But multiple orgasm's such a NEAT TRICK!
My buddy, mon frere, the man with a cunt,
Likes all the man things: to spit and to hunt,
Screams at the Teevee when his team takes bunt!