I’m sorry, I really am
Trying to convince myself
As they come tumbling off our shelf
And we start all over again
Rattling around my brain
Saber tongue polished sharp
Play the buttons on your autoharp
Make you bulge your basal vein
We argue for awhile
Seems we need not practice
The art of managed malice
Folios line our shelf with guile
Coupled as we are madame
Our rhymes take on a cast
Won’t heal our broken past
I’m sorry still, I really am.