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Gene Passehl

What?
Didn't quite hear the last
Spoke to fast
Slow to sink
Slow to think
Like the numbers
All mixed up within myhead
Want to understand
I will listen till it ends
Won't deny my ears
All for fear words be missed
Hide your hands
No need for fists
No fear you might miss
For I'll be here
To bare your blows
Hurt it will
Yet pain I'll bare
But your words I'll find
The bruise I'll bind
Your words will burn
Bruises I'll forget
Words tell the truth
Even when you lie
The fists will die
When scars are scars
Or the pain resides
The fists lies and make even the truths
Unbearable in which to confide