Archive for May 2013
Jopesi, The Pretty Lass
Do you know the pweety lass?
With the shining black rimmed glass.
jopesi, a girl of charisma, swag and class,
Every time she passes by,
Everyone stares and goes O my!Don’t you know the pweety lass?
With the shining black rimmed glass.
Among her peers, with a huge gap she surpass
She draws with her light pen so well,
From where she learnt no one can tellHave you seen the pweety lass?
With the shining black rimmed glass.
With a pretty nice A$$,
Such pretty straight legs she’s got
At times me thinks she’s but a god.Haven’t you seen the pweety lass?
With the shining black rimmed glass.
Talks God at any given chance.
All around her is light so bright,
Glowing from her whitened teeth like the planet mars.Lemme tell you ‘bout the pweety lass,
With the shining black rimmed glass.
Take a sit, relax.
Some men say she’s full of s_ _t,
But I say she’ll soon be a big hitWell, Yes I'm in Love with the prweety lass
The one with shining rimmeed glass
She's so beautiful, I think she's from mars
They call her every mans dream,
For us, I want more than a dreamSo if you see the pweety lass,
With the shining black rimmed glass.
This last part I speak not to jackass,
From me please give a warm wet kiss,
And tell her how much her verve I miss
Tag :
Stories
She Was My First Love (-̩̩̩-̩̩̩_-̩̩̩-̩̩̩)
Even though the forces of nature sometimes destroy the beauty of the world, we still appreciate the times that we were happy and thank God for giving us the good old memories to muse over and merry in.
In retrospect….
The age was seven and the class was primary Four.
3 Significant things, difficult to forget happened that year. It was the first and only time I topped the class, it was the first and only time I won a prize and it was the first and only time I had an almost perfect friend and lost her.
Her name was Obasa.
She was my classmate, new in the school, Ebony-like in complexion and I thought she had behavioural problems because she was really slow with everything she did, both academically, in movement and in speech. Everyone in class saw her as a ‘dollard’ who could not comprehend a thing and struggled to be a step ahead of the least. I didn’t see her that way.
Maybe I was biased. Why shouldn’t I be? She was beautiful and always had that look in her eyes like the looks I saw in the eyes of the hollywood actresses. She reminded me of the movie ‘ANNIE’ whenever I looked at her.
My likeness for Obasa grew and I was always happy going to school every morning. My mum thought I had suddenly fallen in love with school. It wasn’t school mum, it was Obasa.
I shared my biscuits with her on one of her lonely breaks and from that day, we became friends. Only then did I discover she wasn’t the ‘isi aki’ everyone thought she was. We grew from class mates to friends and from friends to close friends. She neglected the girls when they called her ‘spoilt’ for preffering the company of the opposite sex during break and I neglected the boys when they called me ‘woman wrapper’ for choosing her instead of playing ‘police and thief’ with them.
Soon, my Obasa began to bloom academically, proving my instincts right and proving the other pupils wrong. She must have needed time to settle in properly which I guess was the reason for her initial poor scores. I liked her even more after her breakthrough.
We used to walk home together, holding her younger ones and sharing tales we wouldn’t tell the others at school.
She became my best friend as we fondly called it back then. We shared biscuits, talked about things appropriate for our ages, and sometimes, I resisted the urge to do those things I saw people do in movies to her. Yea, I resisted the urge to kiss her.
During the Christmas holidays, I volunteered to follow my aunty whenever she was going to the market because I knew we would always pass her house along the route. I used to peep in and wave if I saw her but if not, I’ll just go to the market feeling the pains of an unfulfilled mission.
This I did until she travelled to her village to spend the new year. I waited patiently. Built up my courage and rehearsed a scene on how I’ll kiss her when she returns. I didn’t know much about love, I was too young to know but the feelings I had for her was next to love if it wasn’t love.
Then…
The day of resumption… Three days…. One week…. Two weeks…. Absence.
Then an OBITYARY… *sigh*
Her ebony-lit face, smiling in black and white with her mother and siblings. The siblings I used to hold. It was her, involved in a ghastly motor accident, burnt beyond recognition. Number plates, tooth and other little clues were used to identify them.
Her family was wiped and I couldn’t hold back as hot tears filled my eyes. I knew what death was at seven and it meant I’ll never see her or her little ones again. I’ll never get to kiss her.
And I went to school everyday, looking at her vacant seat, wishing she could come back so that we can walk home together like we always did but it never happened. I walked home alone, lonely and sad. Memories of our three months old friendship flooded my head each time I walked home and tears were forced to fall sometimes.
Back to present…
That is how I remember it. Thanks to childhood innocence, I wasn’t depressed for so long even though my academic performance that term was a little below my usual performance and I lost that zeal for school that mummy loved. I still remember her every now and then. Even till this day, the memories flood back sometimes and each time I remember her, I feel happy for the opportunity to have had that kind of friend. Soft spoken and strong, intelligent and wonderful and lest I forget, beautiful.
"She was my first love"
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless devic
Dear God 2 | Finding Inner Peace
Dear God,
After my first letter to you, you opened my heart to a lot of things, things that I was ignorant of. Things that many has regarded as little but yet is as big as the biggest thing any one can imagine..... You know I don't read the bible or do I listen to messages but you led me to these verses:
I don't know what they mean but I do know they have a lot in common. You made me understand that In the recessed shadows of my heart, I have found an inner peace.
A peace that isn’t always visible or audible to the outer world. It’s only to be found when others see You living within me. Its a still quiet voice that brings a sense of calm that can not be explained by most. Your spirit whispers my name and cradles me in your majestic arms.
I have struggled with personal pain and emotional upset that only You have been privy too.
Your Love is as beautiful an artwork, as any that Rembrandt could have put to canvas.
Your Grace is the salt that seasons our lives with a taste that the world can not palate.
Your Faithfulness is a song, that only those who hear, could sing its’ melody.
Your Mercy is the gift that required no elaborate party to be received.
It was within my deepest pain and sorrow, that You lifted me up and encouraged me to truly find myself again. To obtain the remarkable faith that only a child could understand. In our years of living, we somehow distort that concept.
Our lives are filled with events that change our perception of what faith in You was truly meant to become. It is a tool that is used to craft a masterpiece.
My life has changed dramatically this past month. My mind has been filled with emotions that run the gamut of human conception.
In those quiet shadows, You were able to make me see just how letting go of my own plans, put Yours into perspective.
My own selfish ways would have prevented me from some of the greatest joys that life had to offer. It was within the shadows of the great valley, that I could see the top of the mountain, and the view is phenomenal.
Thank Your son, Jesus, that encouraged me to write to You, the words that are within my heart and soul. It is this time that we share, that anchors my heart to Your inner harbor .
As the waves roar in, I have no fear. What can Satan do that could ever keep me from Your love?
Absolutely nothing!
For even unto death, I know where my soul will rest. That is the greatest comfort that Your children will ever know.
Big G, (I can call you that right?) I pray for anyone who is lost and searching for the peace that lies in their own recessed shadows. I ask that the Son will shine upon them and bring them the peace that only a Father can provide.
Amen!
Your Son,
Hendrix
After my first letter to you, you opened my heart to a lot of things, things that I was ignorant of. Things that many has regarded as little but yet is as big as the biggest thing any one can imagine..... You know I don't read the bible or do I listen to messages but you led me to these verses:
- Jeremiah 1:4-5
- Isaiah 9:6
- John 15:13
- 1 john 4:8
I don't know what they mean but I do know they have a lot in common. You made me understand that In the recessed shadows of my heart, I have found an inner peace.
A peace that isn’t always visible or audible to the outer world. It’s only to be found when others see You living within me. Its a still quiet voice that brings a sense of calm that can not be explained by most. Your spirit whispers my name and cradles me in your majestic arms.
I have struggled with personal pain and emotional upset that only You have been privy too.
Your Love is as beautiful an artwork, as any that Rembrandt could have put to canvas.
Your Grace is the salt that seasons our lives with a taste that the world can not palate.
Your Faithfulness is a song, that only those who hear, could sing its’ melody.
Your Mercy is the gift that required no elaborate party to be received.
It was within my deepest pain and sorrow, that You lifted me up and encouraged me to truly find myself again. To obtain the remarkable faith that only a child could understand. In our years of living, we somehow distort that concept.
Our lives are filled with events that change our perception of what faith in You was truly meant to become. It is a tool that is used to craft a masterpiece.
My life has changed dramatically this past month. My mind has been filled with emotions that run the gamut of human conception.
I have felt lost, but You found me.
I have felt fear, but You calmed it.
I have know sorrow, but You wiped away the tears.
I have known joy, and I am certain that it all stems from You.
In those quiet shadows, You were able to make me see just how letting go of my own plans, put Yours into perspective.
My own selfish ways would have prevented me from some of the greatest joys that life had to offer. It was within the shadows of the great valley, that I could see the top of the mountain, and the view is phenomenal.
Thank Your son, Jesus, that encouraged me to write to You, the words that are within my heart and soul. It is this time that we share, that anchors my heart to Your inner harbor .
As the waves roar in, I have no fear. What can Satan do that could ever keep me from Your love?
Absolutely nothing!
For even unto death, I know where my soul will rest. That is the greatest comfort that Your children will ever know.
Big G, (I can call you that right?) I pray for anyone who is lost and searching for the peace that lies in their own recessed shadows. I ask that the Son will shine upon them and bring them the peace that only a Father can provide.
Amen!
Your Son,
Hendrix
I, The Okada Man and His Girl-Friend
....... Hendrix, I’m inviting you to my fellowship” she said. “Trust me; it’s going to be worthwhile”.
How the hell was I supposed to refuse such an invitation? Dolly was too fine. The girl set die…., In fact she was “Mmuuaa!!!” and I had been trying to get with her.
Now, the chemistry between Dolly and I was as mutual as it could be. In a nutshell, it was a bit like…….ok, Mutual chemistry? Check, Physical attraction? Check and then Religious compatibility? No check. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like she was a Muslim and I a Christian. In fact, we were/are both Christians.
But you see, the wahala come be say this girl was a Jehovah’s Witness. I’m not saying I dislike or hate Jehovah’s witnesses, no; but if you know these lots well, you’ll agree with me that they have some of the strictest “living righteous” rules/guidelines ever made.
Their views and outlook on life have never been mine at all. I digress, but apologies if I’m being judgmental however.
Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that babes said “NO” a lot to a lot of things. “Oh no I’m not supposed to do that with you, you’re not a witness”. In fact me sef tire for the girl. She gave me the impression that all I had to do was show just a hint of commitment to her faith and then she’d loosen up on the “NO”s. Trust me na. “Yes, yes, I’ll be there”.
On this Sunday, I got ready and told my friends I was going to church. Of course I didn’t tell them I was going to a Kingdom hall for fear of becoming a subject of mockery, as they were Catholics who had always invited me to tag along with them to which I had always objected. So anyways, I set off and proceeded to board an okada to the address. Na here the drama come happen o! It wasn’t until we were about 15 minutes into the journey that it dawned on me that the okada man I had boarded his bike was drunk as a horse.
Suddenly, I had started to smell alcohol in his clothes, and his riding was no different to the riding style in that matrix movie. “E don happen” I said to myself. We had gotten to a point where it was inevitable to abort the journey and there was just nothing I could do about it. So I sat there patiently, with my heart in my hand, while bros had a blast diving into potholes at a very uncomfortable speed, obviously testing out his newly fixed shock absorbers. “All these wahala na because I wan impress woman abi?”
As we went along, I noticed we were going into a very remote area, and I started to feel really uneasy. “Bros you sure say na the church you dey carry me go so?” I asked, and his reply almost threw me off the bike. “Oga we dey go my girlfriend house”.
Now, at this time, it was 9.45 a.m. and I was supposed to be at the service at 9.00 a.m. I was livid. “Akpos!!” as I later learnt was his name, “wetin we dey go do for your girlfriend house?” “Oga sorry sir…… just gimme 2 minutes, we go comot now now abeg”. Before I could get Akpos to change his course and take me to my destination, Akpos had turned off his motorcycle. Whether I liked it or not we were at Akpos’s girlfriends place o! See film!!
It turned out Akpos had come to settle a score with his girlfriend who had caught him having an affair and had moved out of his house, just after trashing it. “She dey crase” he yelled. “How she go scatter my house, break my TV, burn all my clothes……” I stood there in total disbelief at what was unfolding before my eyes. All I simply wanted on that Sunday was to wake up, get dressed and impress Dolly by honoring her invitation to her church, but there I was at Akpos’s girlfriends place, forced to take on the problems of two complete strangers.
2 minutes turned into an hour, and to make matters worse, I became a mediator. I couldn’t believe myself. I had to say or do something just so we could hurry up and get me out of there. This was comedy at its very best. Well, Akpos and his girlfriend exchanged insults for the next 45 minutes and at this point, it became apparent that there was no way I was going to make the service, and so I resigned to these strangers and just stood there while they entertained me.
Eventually, when both parties had run out of nothings to say to each other, I asked Akpos take me back to where he had picked me up.
“Hendrix, welcome back….how was your service?” my friends asked. “Ah! It was fine o! In fact it was the most fulfilling service ever” Before nko? How was I to tell them I spent the day with Akpos and his girlfriend instead of the in the church I had earlier told them I was going to?
Plus I had to prepare a very convincing excuse for Dolly. Some weeks later I was going somewhere when I bumped into Akpos again at the same bike stand. I was surprised he recognised me. “Oga how far na? Oga come make we go”. When he saw that I was obviously avoiding him, he came over and said “Oga come make I carry you go… no worry, me and my babe don settle”.
I said “we bless God o! But no thank you”.
How the hell was I supposed to refuse such an invitation? Dolly was too fine. The girl set die…., In fact she was “Mmuuaa!!!” and I had been trying to get with her.
Now, the chemistry between Dolly and I was as mutual as it could be. In a nutshell, it was a bit like…….ok, Mutual chemistry? Check, Physical attraction? Check and then Religious compatibility? No check. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like she was a Muslim and I a Christian. In fact, we were/are both Christians.
But you see, the wahala come be say this girl was a Jehovah’s Witness. I’m not saying I dislike or hate Jehovah’s witnesses, no; but if you know these lots well, you’ll agree with me that they have some of the strictest “living righteous” rules/guidelines ever made.
Their views and outlook on life have never been mine at all. I digress, but apologies if I’m being judgmental however.
Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that babes said “NO” a lot to a lot of things. “Oh no I’m not supposed to do that with you, you’re not a witness”. In fact me sef tire for the girl. She gave me the impression that all I had to do was show just a hint of commitment to her faith and then she’d loosen up on the “NO”s. Trust me na. “Yes, yes, I’ll be there”.
On this Sunday, I got ready and told my friends I was going to church. Of course I didn’t tell them I was going to a Kingdom hall for fear of becoming a subject of mockery, as they were Catholics who had always invited me to tag along with them to which I had always objected. So anyways, I set off and proceeded to board an okada to the address. Na here the drama come happen o! It wasn’t until we were about 15 minutes into the journey that it dawned on me that the okada man I had boarded his bike was drunk as a horse.
Suddenly, I had started to smell alcohol in his clothes, and his riding was no different to the riding style in that matrix movie. “E don happen” I said to myself. We had gotten to a point where it was inevitable to abort the journey and there was just nothing I could do about it. So I sat there patiently, with my heart in my hand, while bros had a blast diving into potholes at a very uncomfortable speed, obviously testing out his newly fixed shock absorbers. “All these wahala na because I wan impress woman abi?”
As we went along, I noticed we were going into a very remote area, and I started to feel really uneasy. “Bros you sure say na the church you dey carry me go so?” I asked, and his reply almost threw me off the bike. “Oga we dey go my girlfriend house”.
Now, at this time, it was 9.45 a.m. and I was supposed to be at the service at 9.00 a.m. I was livid. “Akpos!!” as I later learnt was his name, “wetin we dey go do for your girlfriend house?” “Oga sorry sir…… just gimme 2 minutes, we go comot now now abeg”. Before I could get Akpos to change his course and take me to my destination, Akpos had turned off his motorcycle. Whether I liked it or not we were at Akpos’s girlfriends place o! See film!!
It turned out Akpos had come to settle a score with his girlfriend who had caught him having an affair and had moved out of his house, just after trashing it. “She dey crase” he yelled. “How she go scatter my house, break my TV, burn all my clothes……” I stood there in total disbelief at what was unfolding before my eyes. All I simply wanted on that Sunday was to wake up, get dressed and impress Dolly by honoring her invitation to her church, but there I was at Akpos’s girlfriends place, forced to take on the problems of two complete strangers.
2 minutes turned into an hour, and to make matters worse, I became a mediator. I couldn’t believe myself. I had to say or do something just so we could hurry up and get me out of there. This was comedy at its very best. Well, Akpos and his girlfriend exchanged insults for the next 45 minutes and at this point, it became apparent that there was no way I was going to make the service, and so I resigned to these strangers and just stood there while they entertained me.
Eventually, when both parties had run out of nothings to say to each other, I asked Akpos take me back to where he had picked me up.
“Hendrix, welcome back….how was your service?” my friends asked. “Ah! It was fine o! In fact it was the most fulfilling service ever” Before nko? How was I to tell them I spent the day with Akpos and his girlfriend instead of the in the church I had earlier told them I was going to?
Plus I had to prepare a very convincing excuse for Dolly. Some weeks later I was going somewhere when I bumped into Akpos again at the same bike stand. I was surprised he recognised me. “Oga how far na? Oga come make we go”. When he saw that I was obviously avoiding him, he came over and said “Oga come make I carry you go… no worry, me and my babe don settle”.
I said “we bless God o! But no thank you”.
Another Random Boy Meets Girl, Boy Falls Hand Story
Of course, I got to lectures late. What self respecting big boy like me comes to lectures early? That’s for all those silly efficos that carry textbooks bigger than their heads with authors whose names they can’t pronounce.
Yes, those same effico that will still be counting ceiling boards in the exam hall. Me? I have my systems. I know how to get by.
For today, as every day, I had to spend extra care to make sure I was looking good. I had to visit the barber to make the mohawk sharp and dye it a bit so I could look tight. I was going to make a killing today. That girl, that course-mate of mine that I had been trying to bag since the start of the year? She would have to agree to go out with me today.
As I sauntered into the lecture hall, the lecturer, an old, hungry man-like 'thing', paused to cast me a withering look, that look that says “I see you, continue wasting your life, ehn? You’ll see me in the exam hall na.” before continuing the lecture. I quickly scanned the hall for an available seat. My fellow bad guys waved me over from the back and indicated an available seat among them. I was just about heading in their direction when I spotted it. An empty seat close to the front of the class.
You may be surprised at that, after all, wetin concern big boy, concern front seat for lecture hall? But it wasn’t the seat that was the attraction. It was the person that was occupying the seat beside it. Angel, the object of my Mohawk sharpening and hair dyeing. I normally avoid seating close to the front of the class (as all well known big boys do, only silly efficos and empty brained girls occupy the front seats) but today, I had to make an exception. I was going to seat beside Angel.
I mustered my swag and sauntered to where she sat.
“Is this seat available?” I asked in my most polished yankee accent, indicating the obviously empty seat.
She barely glanced at me as she said, “Yes.”
I settled into the seat gently, dropped my one notebook (that I rarely ever write in, ever) on the writing surface and took my pen out of my pocket, the look on my face serious, like I was about to learn quantum physics. I heard she likes brilliant guys. Well, she would have to deal with my brilliant guy act today.
I had just opened the notebook and written down a few chemical equations (it was actually a physics class but when you want to form brilliant guy, you have to make do with what is in your head) when my problem started, a slight twinge in my stomach. I adjusted a bit in my seat.
Must be the heavy breakfast that I had eaten trying to digest. I added a few figures to the chemical equation that would have made the chemistry lecturer call my parents and ask what I was doing in a university when I should have been learning a trade. Well, at least, it looked like what an effico would write.
The twinge came again, this time a bit stronger. Then pressure, that kind of pressure that comes when your system is about to get rid of gas began to build up in my system. No way! I thought to myself. There was no way I was going to pass this gas beside this girl and kill my opportunity to ask her out. Why now of all times did my body decide to start getting rid of waste gas?
With that decision, I concentrated and suppressed the pressure. The gas felt like it had gone back into my digestive system. Good.
No, bad. Even worse. After five minutes, the pressure came again, this time slightly stronger. Again I suppressed it by force of willpower. I was not going to allow my body fall my hands today. The third time the pressure built up (stronger than the previous two times) I realised one thing. This wasn’t gas pressure. This was go-to-toilet pressure, but of a special kind. The kind you get when you are purging.
My goodness, no! Not today! Not on this blessed day that I got the opportunity to sit beside Angel. I had already mapped out the questions I would ask her to explain better at the end of the class that I would use to drift into other topics, topics of a more personal nature. No way! No stomach problems were going to prevent me from taking this God-given opportunity today.
The pressure continued to build inside me and after five minutes, I felt like I was going to burst. How was it that the human body could make the human so miserable (the closest I have ever come to thinking about biology)? Now my stomach began to make small funny noises that I hoped Angel wasn’t hearing. I was forcing my intestines to stay closed because they were threatening to burst open.
Chai, what kind of problem was this. Inspite of the fact that the fans were on maximum speed and the windows were wide open, I broke into a sweat.
Angel may not have noticed my initial effico act but she certainly noticed my discomfort.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered too quickly, a wide obviously fake smile on my face. “Wonderful. Thanks for asking.”
Her look lingered for a second before she turned back to the lecturer. The smile instantly disappeared from my face. I had to go to the toilet else I would burst. Angel was still a student; I could talk to her at any time. Right now, I had to settle issues with my stomach. But even that was a problem now. It now felt like if I made any move from my current position, I would soil my boxers.
“BRRRRRRRP!!”
No, I did not soil my pants, thankfully. Neither did my system let go of a cache of toxic gas. It was the contents of my intestines rearranging themselves, very audibly indeed. Unfortunately, Angel had heard and assumed the noise came from the very part of my body I was doing my best to keep from discharging unwanted items. She looked at me with disgust and moved well away.
Then to pre-empt any unsavory smells, sheheld her nose with one hand and fanned with the other.
Fortunately, I didn’t care what she thought anymore. What I cared about was getting to the toilet ASAP. Couldn’t this lecturer stop yapping and get out of the class already? His period was over.
“Well, what lecture are you having next?” the man asked.
“MTH 101,” the course rep replied.
“Okay, I think I’ll continue till your lecturer arrives,”
“NOOOOOOO!”
I only realized the shouting voice was mine when all eyes fell on me. The lecturer’s hawk like eyes fell on me.
“Young man, is it that you are so averse to learning that you can actually voice your displeasure at my presence in the class? Stand up!”
Wahala dey , I thought to myself. If I stood up here, everybody in the class would hear it from my excretory system. I did the best thing. Sat and looked resolutely at the lecturer, sweat still pouring down my face like a Christmas goat.
“Will you stand up young man?”
Na here trouble dey na , I thought, still seated. Something would have to happen to save me from serious trouble.
Thankfully, something did. In the shape of an Okada man that contrived to ride too close to the lecturer’s ancient Honda car which was parked outside the window, leaving deep scratches on the already faded paint.
“You bastard!” yelled the lecturer, running out of the lecture hall to hurl more insults at the retreating biker with better accuracy. With a subdued “brrrrrrrrrp”, my system re organized itself and I felt a moment of calm.
Time to make abreak for it. I grabbed my notebook, left me pen and fled the lecture hall.
“Bike!!!!” I yelled before I even got to the road. Three Okada men stopped and I leapt on the closest one. “Divine Hostel, fast!”
Posted from WordPress for Android
Tag :
Stories
To My Best Pal On His Birthday | BADARU OLUWATOBI
I’m not even sure where to begin this really.
Can I start off by saying that you are fuckin’ amazing?
Because you are.
Not many times in a lifetime comes a special person who changes your way of thinking, your perspective…your life.
They bring in a special spice, a variety to your existence
They make you glad of your uniqueness; they occupy a special place in your heart and never really leave
They’re your friend, your confidante, your family
They’re there for you through thick and thin and just love you unconditionally.
They see grace, skill and genius in your "stupid-est" accomplishment
They see the best in you and as a result make you see the best in yourself.
Yeah we have fights, but that's what friends do; fight and then make up.
If you have a friend that does not tell you the truth, they are not real.
Being "REAL" is very important. If you have a good friend, cherish that person/people. Friends are a gift from God..
How does one define friendship??
I think the simple definition is when people know all about you, but like you anyway. I think you need friends as much as you need your food. I don't mean fake friends.
REAL FRIENDS..
I remember back in the days when i used to think that it was fine being alone. I felt that i could take on everything by myself & i convinced myself that i was fine being alone.
Without friends.
Not that i did not want friends but i did not know who to trust. You get me?
It made me feel sad. I later realised that by sharing some of my burdens & anger with real friends, i feel way much better. I know that my problem have not been solved but it just made me feel better inside.
The person you become is as a result of the people you’ve met or failed to meet.
I think that every friend serves a purpose in my life.
They stand up for you when you’re tired of doing it for yourself.
They keep you in check when you’re getting out of line,
They’re that person you never regret meeting cos they make your life richer just by being in it.
You’re that person to me Badaru Oluwatobi my bestest pal.
I hope every wish you ever made comes true
I hope you find everything you’re looking for
I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you whether you ask me to or not
I want you to know that I’ll never betray you, your confidence or your trust
I want you to know that you’ll be a friend in my heart for always
Here’s to a 100 more years of friendship:
Posted from WordPress for Android
First Time With An Ash***| My Confession
Yes, I slept with an Ashawo and I paid with MY money. I’m so sorry if you’re disappointed in me but it was not totally my fault.
It was raining and I was driving through Ijede road(ikorodu lagos) listening to Jamie Fox’s “Blame it” when I saw her standing under the rain. If you were in my shoes what would you have done? Leave another Nigerian in the rain?
Have you not read the story of the Good Samaritan?
I picked her and took her home but after that night, my conscience wouldn’t let me be and it was my first time (Conscience calls out, "Hendrix?!?") Okay maybe my second time but it was just two times and my conscience wouldn’t just free me whereas there are people reading this note with their ashawo on speed dial.
Talking about my conscience, a lot has been going on in my head of recent and they are driving me crazy.
Seriously, I think am going mad. I’m not about to catch trips on mad people but these days thoughts and images fly around in my head and I’ve started wondering if that’s what qualifies someone as mad? If you are reading this and you’ve been mad before, please pardon me.
At what point do you remove your cloth? Which comes first, moving out of the house and moving into the bus stop or running after cars?
I’m sure the random thoughts come first and that means I may just be at the first stage….Chai, Chineke biko!
Seriously speaking, I don’t want to go mad and I need your prayers. People, forgive me for what I’ve done but pray for me so that these thoughts can leave my head.
Now back to the issue at hand, recently I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and this started after my first second night with an Ashawo .
She is what our modern girls call “Runs” but while it appears to be an insult to refer to someone as an Ashawo, it’s fashionably correct to refer to someone as a “Runs girl” . *SMH*
Back in the good ol’ days, when Ashawo work used to be the pride of some states. (Namely….) The day you decide to do ashawo work is the same day that you move into a brothel.
Most brothels were designed in a “Face me, I face you” style with about 10 rooms on both sides facing each other. Each room consists of a small window, covered by a red curtain, a slim door with a red curtain, 3 nails on the wall, bright blue or red bulb (that’s why they are called Ashawo bulbs) and a mat or wooden bed depending on the location of the brothel.
Ashawo joints were known and they were sincere with their chosen career. They didn’t drive cars but they could afford small stout and cigarette.
Unlike those days, modern day ashawos operate from different places and in different ways.
Some operate from our higher institutions (with or without admission letters), some have their pictures in different hotels over the world, some stand by the roadside, some operate from their father's houses, some serve as nannies during the day and “Runs chics” at night, some work in hair dressing salons during the day, some do only “Home service”…
The list is endless but while Ashawo’s are sincere, Runs Chics are not but seriously whether you refer to yourself as an Ashawo or Runs chic, “Ashawo work na Ashawo no matter what you drive” ask M.I.
However my thoughts has got noffing to do with where they operate from or what they do during the day, I only want you to tell me why my head keeps wondering about them:
It’s just my thoughts, and for all you perverts, I only slept with an Ashhi in .my head but then if you can think it then you’ve done it, abi?
Let me have your thoughts…and remember AIDS IS REAL!!!!!
Posted from WordPress for Android
It was raining and I was driving through Ijede road(ikorodu lagos) listening to Jamie Fox’s “Blame it” when I saw her standing under the rain. If you were in my shoes what would you have done? Leave another Nigerian in the rain?
Have you not read the story of the Good Samaritan?
I picked her and took her home but after that night, my conscience wouldn’t let me be and it was my first time (Conscience calls out, "Hendrix?!?") Okay maybe my second time but it was just two times and my conscience wouldn’t just free me whereas there are people reading this note with their ashawo on speed dial.
Talking about my conscience, a lot has been going on in my head of recent and they are driving me crazy.
Seriously, I think am going mad. I’m not about to catch trips on mad people but these days thoughts and images fly around in my head and I’ve started wondering if that’s what qualifies someone as mad? If you are reading this and you’ve been mad before, please pardon me.
At what point do you remove your cloth? Which comes first, moving out of the house and moving into the bus stop or running after cars?
I’m sure the random thoughts come first and that means I may just be at the first stage….Chai, Chineke biko!
Seriously speaking, I don’t want to go mad and I need your prayers. People, forgive me for what I’ve done but pray for me so that these thoughts can leave my head.
Now back to the issue at hand, recently I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and this started after my first second night with an Ashawo .
She is what our modern girls call “Runs” but while it appears to be an insult to refer to someone as an Ashawo, it’s fashionably correct to refer to someone as a “Runs girl” . *SMH*
Back in the good ol’ days, when Ashawo work used to be the pride of some states. (Namely….) The day you decide to do ashawo work is the same day that you move into a brothel.
Most brothels were designed in a “Face me, I face you” style with about 10 rooms on both sides facing each other. Each room consists of a small window, covered by a red curtain, a slim door with a red curtain, 3 nails on the wall, bright blue or red bulb (that’s why they are called Ashawo bulbs) and a mat or wooden bed depending on the location of the brothel.
Ashawo joints were known and they were sincere with their chosen career. They didn’t drive cars but they could afford small stout and cigarette.
Unlike those days, modern day ashawos operate from different places and in different ways.
Some operate from our higher institutions (with or without admission letters), some have their pictures in different hotels over the world, some stand by the roadside, some operate from their father's houses, some serve as nannies during the day and “Runs chics” at night, some work in hair dressing salons during the day, some do only “Home service”…
The list is endless but while Ashawo’s are sincere, Runs Chics are not but seriously whether you refer to yourself as an Ashawo or Runs chic, “Ashawo work na Ashawo no matter what you drive” ask M.I.
However my thoughts has got noffing to do with where they operate from or what they do during the day, I only want you to tell me why my head keeps wondering about them:
Random thought 1
How come Ashawos’ don’t get nominated for National Honours even though some of them are known to have serviced sitting presidents and the likes? Are they not being cheated? Service is service period and once you’ve served you should be recognised. I think a commission should be set up to fight for this right and in next couple of years we should be seeing National Honours like Ms Cynthia George, AFRN (Ashawo Federal Republic of Nigeria).
Random thought 2
If an Ashawo is filling out a UK Visa entry form or any form at all, when she gets to that part that says; “State your source of income ?” What will she write? My body? Is that not being sincere? Should she not be given Visa for being real?
Random thought 3
What should be the basis on which to retire from this job? Age? Experience? Years in active practise? Considering the fact that some people do it while still in school shouldn’t that be added to their years of experience while applying for jobs that requires 3 or 4 years of experience or there about?
Random thought 4
Why can’t government regulate their fees? I mean it’s the same thing na. I think it should be same price across board. How come it’s more expensive on the Island than the Mainland? I mean that’s what’s obtainable in the case of Lagos state?
Random thought 5
Don’t you think that it would be better to relocate all of them to one community and a BRT bus attached to the community? That way we won’t have people doing it from schools and the likes.
Random thought 6
Since they operate in cities and make use of the amenities shouldn’t they be paying taxes? Somebody receives his salary, gives it to an Ashawo who don’t even submit a PO? Is that not cheating? Don’t you think somebody is cheating somebody and if somebody does not speak up then somebody will keep cheating somebody. If you pay, hold back your tax, jor.
Random thought 7
Don’t you think all Ashawos should have an ID card representing their zones? I think Okada people are not allowed to operate in certain areas without paying a particular fee; should that not apply to Ashawo work? Do you know how many Nigerian girls go to Dubai to work? Should they not go and identify themselves on entering the country like “Hello, my name na Peace, I follow man come. How much be una international fee for here”? The ID card will make people sleep better sef. If you sleep with an Ashhi and she audi with your money, all you need to do is go to her zone office and report her.
Random thought 8
Should one trust and use the condom provided by the Ashawo ?
And final Random thought.
….We’re all aware that Christ died in-between the two thieves but how come Nigerian girls want to suffocate him the second time by placing the crucifix in-between two large sagging boobs?
It’s just my thoughts, and for all you perverts, I only slept with an Ashhi in .my head but then if you can think it then you’ve done it, abi?
Let me have your thoughts…and remember AIDS IS REAL!!!!!
Posted from WordPress for Android
I Am Now Convinced That I Am Going To Die Single.
I am now convinced that I am going to die single.
Growing up, I had been tutored to have high demands when it came to women. I was encouraged not to ‘settle’. So, as early as JSS3, I had made up my list of requirements. Whoever would be my main squeeze had to have the following exact characteristics:
1) Pretty face. Females who were ogres in their former lives were advised to stay far. Very far.
2) Hot figure. Something of a mix between Eva Longoria and Beyonce.
3) Height. Pygmies not welcome.
4) Fair complexion. This particular idiosyncrasy was handed down from Dad: you should see my mother.
5) Who doesn't want for himself some mammary?
But you see, dear readers, I met her during my first year of university. She had all but number 4. Her chocolate complexion was exquisite. I fell in lust instantly..... she dumped me after I farted in bed.(T'wld have been better if she had dumped me cos of this reason)
Anyway, I had then realised that I could date dark chicks. Awesome. Then I met another her(maybe we'll just call her "her2) who kind of looked like a bimbo. However, she was missing numbers 3 and 4.
Our relationship went down the drain after she caught me ogling at her mother. What? Don’t judge. The woman had all 5! But she also had her blasted husband’s stupid wedding ring. Aaaaargh…(another worse case senerio I wld have agreed to be dumped for)
It all went downhill from there. Her3, while of average height, was shaped like a pedestrian bridge: straight and narrow.
Her4(you should get it from this point) made me rethink item 5. She put the ‘2’ in too much. The Jews could have hidden from Hitler’s Nazis in her cleavage!
Recently, I finally let go of my precepts. I made but one new rule: conversation. I wanted a woman I could talk to. All my friends lauded the new and improved me. I had indeed matured, they all said.
And so I happened upon Her5. She was a colleague at school. And – you guessed it – she had all five. Plus, she was single. How ironic that I should meet the girl of my dreams AFTER I’d contrived to trash those prerequisite.
I’d only seen her a few times when she came to our faculty and… my oh my: she was stunning! First she was half caste, and then her figure was to die for. On top of that, she was at least 5feet 10inches.
I once snuck a peek while she was talking to a friend of mine (another colleague). I couldn’t make out what she was saying from where I stood but I figured she must be a pretty powerful orator because Clinton clearly had tears in his eyes. Amazing! What could make such a macho man cry? If my curiosity was piqued before,
I was nearing obsession by now. It seemed my search was finally over. I couldn’t wait to meet Her and have terrific conversations with this intelligent, hot girl.
My chance came soon enough.
One day, I spotted her at an eatery my colleagues and I frequented during lunch breaks. I was about to order when our eyes clashed. I ignored the attendant and walked over to where she sat.
“Hi”, I started, “my name is Chris and I’ve been dying to meet you.” By the time she was done replying, I was weeping like Clinton. She said:
“Hello Chris. I’m Ingrid. Let me start by apologising. I have a birth defect which accounts for my incurable, tear inducing halitosis…” I wiped my face without bothering to hear more and trudged back to the counter.
See why I wrote the first line?
Growing up, I had been tutored to have high demands when it came to women. I was encouraged not to ‘settle’. So, as early as JSS3, I had made up my list of requirements. Whoever would be my main squeeze had to have the following exact characteristics:
1) Pretty face. Females who were ogres in their former lives were advised to stay far. Very far.
2) Hot figure. Something of a mix between Eva Longoria and Beyonce.
3) Height. Pygmies not welcome.
4) Fair complexion. This particular idiosyncrasy was handed down from Dad: you should see my mother.
5) Who doesn't want for himself some mammary?
But you see, dear readers, I met her during my first year of university. She had all but number 4. Her chocolate complexion was exquisite. I fell in lust instantly..... she dumped me after I farted in bed.(T'wld have been better if she had dumped me cos of this reason)
Anyway, I had then realised that I could date dark chicks. Awesome. Then I met another her(maybe we'll just call her "her2) who kind of looked like a bimbo. However, she was missing numbers 3 and 4.
Our relationship went down the drain after she caught me ogling at her mother. What? Don’t judge. The woman had all 5! But she also had her blasted husband’s stupid wedding ring. Aaaaargh…(another worse case senerio I wld have agreed to be dumped for)
It all went downhill from there. Her3, while of average height, was shaped like a pedestrian bridge: straight and narrow.
Her4(you should get it from this point) made me rethink item 5. She put the ‘2’ in too much. The Jews could have hidden from Hitler’s Nazis in her cleavage!
Recently, I finally let go of my precepts. I made but one new rule: conversation. I wanted a woman I could talk to. All my friends lauded the new and improved me. I had indeed matured, they all said.
And so I happened upon Her5. She was a colleague at school. And – you guessed it – she had all five. Plus, she was single. How ironic that I should meet the girl of my dreams AFTER I’d contrived to trash those prerequisite.
I’d only seen her a few times when she came to our faculty and… my oh my: she was stunning! First she was half caste, and then her figure was to die for. On top of that, she was at least 5feet 10inches.
I once snuck a peek while she was talking to a friend of mine (another colleague). I couldn’t make out what she was saying from where I stood but I figured she must be a pretty powerful orator because Clinton clearly had tears in his eyes. Amazing! What could make such a macho man cry? If my curiosity was piqued before,
I was nearing obsession by now. It seemed my search was finally over. I couldn’t wait to meet Her and have terrific conversations with this intelligent, hot girl.
My chance came soon enough.
One day, I spotted her at an eatery my colleagues and I frequented during lunch breaks. I was about to order when our eyes clashed. I ignored the attendant and walked over to where she sat.
“Hi”, I started, “my name is Chris and I’ve been dying to meet you.” By the time she was done replying, I was weeping like Clinton. She said:
“Hello Chris. I’m Ingrid. Let me start by apologising. I have a birth defect which accounts for my incurable, tear inducing halitosis…” I wiped my face without bothering to hear more and trudged back to the counter.
See why I wrote the first line?
Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry using MTN NIGERIA.
The Confused State Of Mind
Its the 5th month of the Year, the month of 'may'.
If I want to let you in on what’s going on in my heart, it’ll take forever to explain and ultimately leave you confused with my back-and-forth feelings that I can’t even put into words.
He that findeth a wife, findeth a good thing – so I’ve heard. *sighs*
I’ve heard of amazing love stories and watched tons of movies in which such was depicted excellently. Agreed! Most are make-believes but why then do I feel I’m the only one experiencing the reverse?
I hear relationships have ups downs…. But somehow I feel i …….
*is it just me or have you ever wanted to express your feelings on paper then find it hard to find the exact words to convey the message*
I’ve been schooled into believing that the heart is a muscular pump that supplies blood to the body-(mr peter)
TRUE! Being a medic, I’ve held a couple and dissected a few. And believe me when I say its not all that!
The heart I refer to in this article isn’t the one in your chest that deals with blood. Its the one we cannot see, touch or even dissect. It’s the mastermind behind what we feel and our emotions in general.
It’s what makes you light up when you see that person you genuinely cherish and care about. It’s what makes you sleep well at night, knowing the love and care you dish out is appreciated and returned (in full). It’s equally responsible for making you completely miserable when you’re hurt!
I’m trying so hard to concentrate and take my mind away from the pain I feel inside right now.
Hmmmm………….
Life can be such a b**** sometimes, screwing peoples feelings and emotions over and over whenever she feels like.
As the sayings go ”All is well that ends well”; ”It ain’t over till the fat lady sings”
This is just a phase I’m sure will pass over with time. Some things hurt so much that the only way you feel (a lil) better is if you write out how you feel at that very moment, as talking to friends or even a therapist won’t do you any good.
There are always two sides to every story. There’s always an element of truth in every rumor.
What if both sides of the story say the same damn thing, but I’m just too blinded by emotions to face facts and make up my mind. I don’t believe in star-signs, horoscope predictions and fortune telling- but I believe what will be will be!
Of late, I’ve been trying desperately to make up excuses for “your” actions. Am I just scared of losing you, scared of moving on or scared of starting all over from scratch?
These are questions that I know I can never answer directly in this current state of mind without confusing myself any further and compounding my problems.
For big fans of chocolates, you know that feeling you get when you taste a good bar of chocolate and it dissolves in your mouth and momentarily you are in another realm surrounded by comfort, peace and bliss – and then that feeling is replaced by the bitter taste of “alomo bitters”, that’s all I can relate to right now.
Hmmm…….
I must say I feel better writing down my feelings and problems. Like Lil Wayne said in 6 foot 7 foot, “I talk to myself, I am my own consultant”
Matters of the heart are dangerous and dickey, you’ve got to handle with care! When the pain you feel inside starts to reflect on your day-to-day deeds and it then manifest as psychotic heart wrenching absent mindedness then, I think you may have an incline of how I feel.
I hear people say, Rome wasn’t built in a day. But i am very sure that concerted effort can bring it down to its core. It takes ages to build things and a couple of seconds, minutes…, tops,days to destroy the same things.
Life can be frustrating sometimes, with a lot of commas and people that are naturally kill-joys clamouring around you. Striving hard, never looking back or “aloofness” as my friends always say, is the way forward. Karma exists whether you like, love, hate believe it or not and it sure as hell stings hard each time you experience it.
Bending over backwards for people doesn’t necessarily make you subject to them. The patient dog eats the……. Question is, What if the dog prefers the meat to the bone, huh?
If you don't get it right at first, try, try again. It’s not every thing or every one you push your self to the limit for.
Tick tock.. Time flies… Soon my heart will be hardened like “stock-fish” and it’ll be goodbye or on to the next one. He who laughs last…. may not necessarily laugh best. He may either have issues upstairs or is indeed very calculated.
“The best things in life are free” – “nothing good comes easy” commonly used words, Yes! But how can we fully relate the two especially when you know how hard you’ve worked to come this far? I wonder!
“The heart wants what the heart wants”. Can’t argue with that. Searching for that “special-someone” that understands you is like looking for a needle in a haystack – a medical friend told me the easiest way to find said needle is to burn the haystack.
Agreed no one is perfect, we all have flaws. I’m not looking for perfection, just a lil appreciation and a reassurance that I’m not the only one in this love boat.
If something is truly yours, it’ll surely come back to you. What happens when it comes back and there’s already a replacement?
Some questions in life are truly rhetorical!
Don’t YOU think so?
It really hurts when you love someone with all your heart, you’re willing to do a full 180° on your old ways and move mountains for the person, yet the person can’t even tell when you are hurting.
The more I try to write my feelings down, the more pain I try to let go of, as it consumes me. To you, I may just be a confused individual, true… Scroll up and check the title, love does that to even the finest minds on earth.
If you’re out there and you’ve been in my shoes at one point or the other or you’re currently experiencing it, kindly let me know that i’m not alone ….
*sips coke...listening to Bruno Mars "Who Is".*
Bruno Mars - Who Is
[audio http://defpenradio.com/wp-content/2010/09/Bruno-Mars-Who-Is-BMF.mp3 ]
Posted from WordPress for Android
Why don’t I feel the excitement- that amazing feeling that everything will be different, better and all one has ever wished for?
Why do I feel exactly the same as I felt the month before?
Why do I feel sad, knowing that I’m back to square one?
Why do I have over 1000 contacts on my Facebook, yet tons of messages from them can’t make me happy?
Am I an attention seeker?
Am I seeking attention from that person that means the world to me and getting an icy cold shoulder in return?
Am I just drifting into the land of the insane without even knowing it?
If I want to let you in on what’s going on in my heart, it’ll take forever to explain and ultimately leave you confused with my back-and-forth feelings that I can’t even put into words.
He that findeth a wife, findeth a good thing – so I’ve heard. *sighs*
I’ve heard of amazing love stories and watched tons of movies in which such was depicted excellently. Agreed! Most are make-believes but why then do I feel I’m the only one experiencing the reverse?
I hear relationships have ups downs…. But somehow I feel i …….
*is it just me or have you ever wanted to express your feelings on paper then find it hard to find the exact words to convey the message*
I’ve been schooled into believing that the heart is a muscular pump that supplies blood to the body-(mr peter)
TRUE! Being a medic, I’ve held a couple and dissected a few. And believe me when I say its not all that!
The heart I refer to in this article isn’t the one in your chest that deals with blood. Its the one we cannot see, touch or even dissect. It’s the mastermind behind what we feel and our emotions in general.
It’s what makes you light up when you see that person you genuinely cherish and care about. It’s what makes you sleep well at night, knowing the love and care you dish out is appreciated and returned (in full). It’s equally responsible for making you completely miserable when you’re hurt!
I’m trying so hard to concentrate and take my mind away from the pain I feel inside right now.
Hmmmm………….
Life can be such a b**** sometimes, screwing peoples feelings and emotions over and over whenever she feels like.
As the sayings go ”All is well that ends well”; ”It ain’t over till the fat lady sings”
This is just a phase I’m sure will pass over with time. Some things hurt so much that the only way you feel (a lil) better is if you write out how you feel at that very moment, as talking to friends or even a therapist won’t do you any good.
There are always two sides to every story. There’s always an element of truth in every rumor.
What if both sides of the story say the same damn thing, but I’m just too blinded by emotions to face facts and make up my mind. I don’t believe in star-signs, horoscope predictions and fortune telling- but I believe what will be will be!
Of late, I’ve been trying desperately to make up excuses for “your” actions. Am I just scared of losing you, scared of moving on or scared of starting all over from scratch?
These are questions that I know I can never answer directly in this current state of mind without confusing myself any further and compounding my problems.
For big fans of chocolates, you know that feeling you get when you taste a good bar of chocolate and it dissolves in your mouth and momentarily you are in another realm surrounded by comfort, peace and bliss – and then that feeling is replaced by the bitter taste of “alomo bitters”, that’s all I can relate to right now.
Hmmm…….
I must say I feel better writing down my feelings and problems. Like Lil Wayne said in 6 foot 7 foot, “I talk to myself, I am my own consultant”
Matters of the heart are dangerous and dickey, you’ve got to handle with care! When the pain you feel inside starts to reflect on your day-to-day deeds and it then manifest as psychotic heart wrenching absent mindedness then, I think you may have an incline of how I feel.
I hear people say, Rome wasn’t built in a day. But i am very sure that concerted effort can bring it down to its core. It takes ages to build things and a couple of seconds, minutes…, tops,days to destroy the same things.
Life can be frustrating sometimes, with a lot of commas and people that are naturally kill-joys clamouring around you. Striving hard, never looking back or “aloofness” as my friends always say, is the way forward. Karma exists whether you like, love, hate believe it or not and it sure as hell stings hard each time you experience it.
Bending over backwards for people doesn’t necessarily make you subject to them. The patient dog eats the……. Question is, What if the dog prefers the meat to the bone, huh?
If you don't get it right at first, try, try again. It’s not every thing or every one you push your self to the limit for.
Tick tock.. Time flies… Soon my heart will be hardened like “stock-fish” and it’ll be goodbye or on to the next one. He who laughs last…. may not necessarily laugh best. He may either have issues upstairs or is indeed very calculated.
“The best things in life are free” – “nothing good comes easy” commonly used words, Yes! But how can we fully relate the two especially when you know how hard you’ve worked to come this far? I wonder!
“The heart wants what the heart wants”. Can’t argue with that. Searching for that “special-someone” that understands you is like looking for a needle in a haystack – a medical friend told me the easiest way to find said needle is to burn the haystack.
Agreed no one is perfect, we all have flaws. I’m not looking for perfection, just a lil appreciation and a reassurance that I’m not the only one in this love boat.
If something is truly yours, it’ll surely come back to you. What happens when it comes back and there’s already a replacement?
Some questions in life are truly rhetorical!
Don’t YOU think so?
It really hurts when you love someone with all your heart, you’re willing to do a full 180° on your old ways and move mountains for the person, yet the person can’t even tell when you are hurting.
The more I try to write my feelings down, the more pain I try to let go of, as it consumes me. To you, I may just be a confused individual, true… Scroll up and check the title, love does that to even the finest minds on earth.
If you’re out there and you’ve been in my shoes at one point or the other or you’re currently experiencing it, kindly let me know that i’m not alone ….
*sips coke...listening to Bruno Mars "Who Is".*
Bruno Mars - Who Is
[audio http://defpenradio.com/wp-content/2010/09/Bruno-Mars-Who-Is-BMF.mp3 ]
Oh I was perfect
For the circus
If she dared me I'd do it
Love makes you stupid
I gave it up
But I guess it was not enough
'Cos she never seems satisfied
I know I'm not perfect
But at the end of the day
Who is?
She wanted someone that's perfect,
Okay, but can you tell me who is?
She set the bar
Just above the stars
A rocket couldn't reach it
But I still kept on reaching
She watched me try
At least a thousand times
If she loved me she'd stop me,
But no
I know I'm not perfect
But at the end of the day
Who is?
She wanted someone that's perfect
Okay, but can you tell me who is?
I saw something worth my future
So wrong, so wrong
In my mind I would turn the clock
But I guess I wasn't wrong
I know I'm not perfect
But at the end of the day
Who is?
She wanted someone that's perfect
Okay, but can you tell me
Who is?
Posted from WordPress for Android
Tag :
Stories
