Gray like Friday

friday, fly a kite day used
to be my tryin’ not to
die all week just to
get to day,

ok, it’s a weak rhyme, i know
but that’s ok, i’m fool that pays
when freak jumps out,
n’ flashes you all
his junk,

mode’s only as corny
as fashion’s faded
frame dictates,

maybe it’s time to brush
aside past styles for
fresher taste

freaky friday’s now my
cry day, but they
tell me i’m

can’t run, must hide
n’ bury the whole
damn week



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