THE SUN OF HIS VOICE

The sun of his voice and the rain of his words,
A rainbow joyce which runs on the drums
His sour lung hunts poor terms,
No guns,
Just for fun,
For poetry son,
See the sunset in his eyes when he smiles,
When I first met him he had a red color spine,
No dimes,
No golds,
His eyes like jewels,
Holds the mic the crowd follow him like fueled fools

Colorful countries,
Plenty of palm trees,
Beautiful ferries rest in the calm, please
Be quiet respect don t sneeze,
Don't spoil the landscape,
Keep correct don’t leave

I don t leave at again
Cause all long the microphone