Bunker Hill
i've been a fool for way too long and i've been in hiding for a silent song
in the safe of bunker hill the jews are trying to kill me
it's the cost of the safety fines that's bringing me out tonight
could we sit, sit, on a bench, or walk,
for some time we could talk but we'll probably be pretty far apart
he, he makes her happy
he makes her cry
i can see he needs her every night
he, he makes her happy
september wasn't happy
and neither were you
he, he makes her happy
he makes her cry
i can see he needs her every night
he, could have made me happy
september wasn't happy
and neither were you
and neither was i
i'll be glad if we make it through
poem by Annie Cordelia Adams
Added by Poetry Lover
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