After I don't know how long, a memory I thought I'd blocked out came back to me...
Growing up, we had two dogs, two beautiful Alsatians. Fanny was the first one. I think there had been other dogs before her, but I remember Fanny. She was a wonderful friend... When friends would come over to play, Fanny would be so protective of my siblings and me...she would growl at any kid who tried to ''act smart'' with us...it was just a warning growl...she was far too nice to attack anyone. I think she was closest to my father. My mother was never much into dogs or cats...she was allergic to the hundreds of hairs our pets would shed all over the house...but morning, noon or night it was Mom who'd always remember to fill Fanny's food and water bowls on time...
Fanny would get so scared during Diwali time...our house used to be the hub of all the excitement...with candles and sweets and the fireworks - a source of so much fun for us kids - but now I get how traumatic it must have been for poor Fanny...that brave dog who wasn't scared of anything else would be forced to hide under the bed...I was just an insensitive kid then...I had no tears to spare for her as she would whimper under that bed...I was too busy wolfing down gulab jamuns and bursting phatakas...I can't stop tearing up now...
I remember one day Fanny was nowhere to be found...after frantic searching by almost the entire neighborhood, she was finally discovered - the poor darling had been kidnapped by our treacherous neighbors who had stashed her away under their hen coop, presumably to have her for dinner. I remember the indescribable relief and joy when we found her and the depth of anger and resentment against those people who had done that to her... I for one was resolved to be as mean as I could be to the kids in that family...who were probably unaware of what the adults had been doing...
Fanny died on a Sunday. I distinctly remember what day it was because in my mind's eye I can replay those scenes like they've been dvr'd into my memory...there was this program on tv that would come on every Sunday...Fanny had been unwell for the past few days...she was lying down outside in the sun...and she died. That's my memory - that program with a silly jingle playing and outside, Fanny dying. I don't remember what she had been suffering from...I don't exactly recall how old she was...she was 12 I think...I know my parents or siblings would have that information but somehow I don't want to bring this up with them...I don't know why...
We have pictures of her, looking absolutely aristocratic and staring straight at the camera...beautiful and bright...
And then there was Bobby...from the beginning we knew he was supposed to ''belong'' to my elder sister...I don't know how or why but that's how it was...and I must admit he did seem to love her the most...ready to fling himself in fury at anyone who upset my sister...sometimes we'd act like we were mad at her and would yell at her and Bobby would pull back his mouth showing us some scary canine promise of revenge...
Such a darling, cute little puppy was Bobby, always playful...I remember the day we got him home...his first few stumbling steps...and the sheer joy of having a dog in the house again...his cheerful persona...scampering with him all over our beautiful, big garden and watching him lap up milk with the boundless enthusiam that only a dog can possess...
...now I think of things like how we took him away from his mother and his siblings - how painful it is to be an adult and have all this perspective that can make one look back and be engulfed with grief recalling things that one did unintentionally...that one cannot undo...but perhaps adopting Bobby was a good thing because the family he was with had arranged to have him given away so perhaps we were in a better position to take care of him...
When the time came for us to leave Manipur and move to Madras we left Bobby behind with a good friend of ours. It is that memory today that triggered off this huge ball of painful-I-don't-know-what that's lodged in my throat and is making my eyes tear up and my body heave and my hands tremble as I type. We took this little baby and he became an invaluable part of our family and then we left him behind just like that...I don't remember how old he must have been...still a little baby dog, a little puppy. I was 8 then and all I could think of was how sad it was to leave my friends behind, how soon the park and the olive tree would not be and how - wow someone who'd come to say good bye just gave me a handful of candy... yAy! Those were my thoughts then...
I don't know who decided or why that Bobby would be left behind...I'm sure it was well thought out by my parents ...they aren't cruel people and it was probably the best decision...but I look back now and think how devastating it must have been for that poor little soul...twice already in his little life, the family he knew had disappeared just like that...
Many years later I was told that Bobby died a few days after we had left...I can barely write this ... he died of a bone that got stuck in his throat...that little innocent, with his naughtiness and sunny disposition, who knew only how to be happy and make everyone around him happy, that's how he died. I cried when I heard this and even now the tears are unstoppable.
So I had to get back to this blog of mine and pray for some catharsis by writing this down. I hope they didn't feel any pain...even if they did, I hope it was fleeting, momentary, a spasm...at least I have to...need to...think that way...
But it's not just the selfishness of trying to lessen my guilt and pain...I'm writing this as my way of saluting Fanny and Bobby...a small way of thanking them...and apologizing to them...and letting them know how very special they were and always will be. They were the best companions we could have hoped for...they were unselfish and joy-filled and faithful and loving. We controlled their destinies or at least we shaped what their lives were and we unknowingly hurt them ...but we also loved them abundantly and they will forever be missed...
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Saturday, December 12, 2009
the autobiography of an unknown (single) woman
Why is it so difficult for people to believe that one can be single and happy…
She (laying the groundwork) : so wassup? What happening?
Me (wary) : all good, all good. Cldn’t be better…n how’s the baby doin?
She (ignores the sidestepping…hones right back in) : very good. Healthy. Happy. So how do u like the new place? Met…
Me (quickly) : hey hey like I said all fine…I just moved into an apartment ….
She (quicker): …anyone yet? Or still single?
Me (giving up): single
She: oh (pause) sorry…
Me: ... wtf?!?
She (laying the groundwork) : so wassup? What happening?
Me (wary) : all good, all good. Cldn’t be better…n how’s the baby doin?
She (ignores the sidestepping…hones right back in) : very good. Healthy. Happy. So how do u like the new place? Met…
Me (quickly) : hey hey like I said all fine…I just moved into an apartment ….
She (quicker): …anyone yet? Or still single?
Me (giving up): single
She: oh (pause) sorry…
Me: ... wtf?!?
Thursday, December 10, 2009
i carry your heart with me - ee cummings
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
Monday, July 27, 2009
We came upon a beautiful, priceless portrait of a Woman:
Her eyes were radiant as the cosmic stars,
more luminous than all the suns and moons She looked upon.
Her smile was the rainbow, after a summer rain.
Her laughter was the music of rippling brooks and singing birds.
Her hair was thick and voluminous, like young forests and lush, green fields.
It cascaded down Her shoulders, like rivers running over distant hills.
Her hands were made to give,
food, water, precious gems.
Her graceful feet held firm and tight, yet softer than fine soil, in spite of Her might,
Then we Possessed Her,
we stole the sunshine from Her eyes,
Her smile we turned to a bloody gash.
Her hair we pulled out by its roots,
Her hands we chopped with axes and saws,
Her feet we dug up with advanced machines.
When we were done with Her,
we labeled the portrait - “Mother Earth.”
Her eyes were radiant as the cosmic stars,
more luminous than all the suns and moons She looked upon.
Her smile was the rainbow, after a summer rain.
Her laughter was the music of rippling brooks and singing birds.
Her hair was thick and voluminous, like young forests and lush, green fields.
It cascaded down Her shoulders, like rivers running over distant hills.
Her hands were made to give,
food, water, precious gems.
Her graceful feet held firm and tight, yet softer than fine soil, in spite of Her might,
Then we Possessed Her,
we stole the sunshine from Her eyes,
Her smile we turned to a bloody gash.
Her hair we pulled out by its roots,
Her hands we chopped with axes and saws,
Her feet we dug up with advanced machines.
When we were done with Her,
we labeled the portrait - “Mother Earth.”
small, small wishes...
It’s past the midnight hour, way past,
and Dawn is slowly gliding across the sky.
An early bird sings, listens and sings again.
The bedroom is cool and dim.
Through the open window, the faint ,
wonderful scent of newly drenched earth
drifts in, each time a young breeze rustles the leaves outside.
Mother is deep in sleep, one hand tucked under her ear, the other stretched across,
Sisters, sleeping next to her, bent, the little curls that line their foreheads, matching the fluttering of the leaves outside.
Father is sleeping too, the respite before another day at work,
Brother, lost in dreams, his lanky frame, graceful in repose.
And I sitting here, writing this.
Oh Lord, let it always be like this,
a moment so perfect in its perfection,
The world is good and new and peaceful.
Bless my family and friends everywhere.
and Dawn is slowly gliding across the sky.
An early bird sings, listens and sings again.
The bedroom is cool and dim.
Through the open window, the faint ,
wonderful scent of newly drenched earth
drifts in, each time a young breeze rustles the leaves outside.
Mother is deep in sleep, one hand tucked under her ear, the other stretched across,
Sisters, sleeping next to her, bent, the little curls that line their foreheads, matching the fluttering of the leaves outside.
Father is sleeping too, the respite before another day at work,
Brother, lost in dreams, his lanky frame, graceful in repose.
And I sitting here, writing this.
Oh Lord, let it always be like this,
a moment so perfect in its perfection,
The world is good and new and peaceful.
Bless my family and friends everywhere.
and then there's marriage...
For me times haven’t changed,
We are still two valiant warriors
battling against a cruel world.
I, holding my red duppatta over your head,
so the cold raindrops don’t wet you,
And you, walking on the “Danger” side of the road.
Now you brush past me in the hallway
and don’t even utter an apology- I don’t expect one but
did you have to shudder, as though touching me repelled you.
I didn’t realize when all your love had gone and bitterness taken its place.
because my all-encompassing love for you, made me blind.
I see now you are changed and the pity is,
for me, the times haven’t changed at all…
We are still two valiant warriors
battling against a cruel world.
I, holding my red duppatta over your head,
so the cold raindrops don’t wet you,
And you, walking on the “Danger” side of the road.
Now you brush past me in the hallway
and don’t even utter an apology- I don’t expect one but
did you have to shudder, as though touching me repelled you.
I didn’t realize when all your love had gone and bitterness taken its place.
because my all-encompassing love for you, made me blind.
I see now you are changed and the pity is,
for me, the times haven’t changed at all…
choti si prem story...
I used to tease him whenever we met
that he would forget the love we had,
this hunger, this bliss, this awakening,
he would say, “I’ll remember.”
He had come into my life on the wings of my dreams,
I had tasted the sweet flush of first love,
but just as soon as life started singing,
he had to leave for the War.
We promised to love forever, he smiled, I cried,
and then a solemn promise we made,
that though we had been forbidden to meet ever,
If we lived through this war, we would.
I waited nine long years,
and the war was over.
Youth, riches, beauty all were gone.
Hope remained, but I stifled it
He must have a new life, so many laurels had he earned.
So I succumbed, I was weak,
another shared my bed that day.
I began life anew, leaving even the memories
of that first, riotous passion far behind,
going on with life like others were doing,
till they sent me his few remaining possessions.
His family all gone, they traced me through a letter,
a letter that just said,“I remembered.”
that he would forget the love we had,
this hunger, this bliss, this awakening,
he would say, “I’ll remember.”
He had come into my life on the wings of my dreams,
I had tasted the sweet flush of first love,
but just as soon as life started singing,
he had to leave for the War.
We promised to love forever, he smiled, I cried,
and then a solemn promise we made,
that though we had been forbidden to meet ever,
If we lived through this war, we would.
I waited nine long years,
and the war was over.
Youth, riches, beauty all were gone.
Hope remained, but I stifled it
He must have a new life, so many laurels had he earned.
So I succumbed, I was weak,
another shared my bed that day.
I began life anew, leaving even the memories
of that first, riotous passion far behind,
going on with life like others were doing,
till they sent me his few remaining possessions.
His family all gone, they traced me through a letter,
a letter that just said,“I remembered.”
such is life...
On the clothesline in the garden one morning,
when the earliest riser got up from bed still yawning,
there formed a genius of Creation,
that would have filled the dullest mind with elation.
when the earliest riser got up from bed still yawning,
there formed a genius of Creation,
that would have filled the dullest mind with elation.
The ground lay below, it lay on top,
On top of the clothesline – a magnificent rain drop.
Slowly it grew in size, and in stature too it seemed,
All the colors of the rainbow inside it gleamed,
Till at the height of its importance the little monarch claimed with glee,
“Bow to me Creation; for I have trapped the Sun inside me.”
And for one, wondrous moment its claim held true,
For a more radiantly beautiful masterpiece nature never knew!
But the Sun only shone brighter than ever,
And the morning breeze blew, causing the clothesline to shiver.
The little drop, showing the first signs of fear,
Clung on with all its might to life held dear.
Till succumbing to the inevitability of Life, the proud child fell forth,
And was enfolded in the warm embrace of its Mother Earth.
while in love...(?)
Conversations – for me it is more than the talking. It is the after wards. When I am alone with my thoughts…or shall I say your thoughts.
Long after you have stopped talking, your voice caresses my skin. Carefully going over every word, every phrase – like a jealous God I guard my treasure of memories.
How is it that you can give even the most commonplace "how are you", a profundity that’s otherwise missing from the three syllables. And why does every comment of yours feel like a glimpse of all that is good and believable and possible in this crazy world.
Is it part of some cosmic plan that you – a stranger to my yesterdays – should govern all my tomorrows?
I crave the softness of your whisper. Crave with an intensity that leaves me so hungry, I have to press myself against this cold, dark floor for some – any – salvation.
I try to replay all your pauses, and exclamations. Your many chuckles, and that grin that is so uniquely yours. I try to capture that lilt in your voice, that wry humor, that understanding. And when I’m still unsatiated…I reach with seeing hands – for the telephone.
sweetcide
Life’s fluid oozes out gently,
as if unwilling to part from the sweet haven
of moist, comforting veins that have been
Rudely sliced with a
steel rimmed blade.
Is this how death arrives…
Undignified, sprawled in a musty barn,
Where the feeble, last sighs,
mingle with the dusty earth.
as if unwilling to part from the sweet haven
of moist, comforting veins that have been
Rudely sliced with a
steel rimmed blade.
Is this how death arrives…
Undignified, sprawled in a musty barn,
Where the feeble, last sighs,
mingle with the dusty earth.
the rationale behind it all...
What’s more difficult than writing trash…- writing Complete trash…
But I’ve fairly mastered the Art, for Art it is.
Anything that takes up so many sheets of paper – double sided – and fills the dust bin so many times, and eats through over a dozen pencils is crying out for an Art label.
Mind you, I make no mention of the amount of hair and wrinkles, lost and gained respectively – in a superhuman, butt-clenching effort to churn out one, pithy, masterpiece of an insipid sentence.
Yup! Complete trash – that’s my forte.
But I’ve fairly mastered the Art, for Art it is.
Anything that takes up so many sheets of paper – double sided – and fills the dust bin so many times, and eats through over a dozen pencils is crying out for an Art label.
Mind you, I make no mention of the amount of hair and wrinkles, lost and gained respectively – in a superhuman, butt-clenching effort to churn out one, pithy, masterpiece of an insipid sentence.
Yup! Complete trash – that’s my forte.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Let me be the one you come home to…
I wish I were the moonlight,
streaming in and bathing you
in a radiance that is as bright,
As my love for you is true.
I wish I were your favorite song,
Oh! It would be such bliss,
to be touched (all day long),
by the caress of your lips.
I wish I were the flower,
that you so gently took,
and carried around for an hour,
then gently saved in a book.
But most of all I wish to be,
the one you come home to,
the one who makes you happy,
the one who’s loved by you…
streaming in and bathing you
in a radiance that is as bright,
As my love for you is true.
I wish I were your favorite song,
Oh! It would be such bliss,
to be touched (all day long),
by the caress of your lips.
I wish I were the flower,
that you so gently took,
and carried around for an hour,
then gently saved in a book.
But most of all I wish to be,
the one you come home to,
the one who makes you happy,
the one who’s loved by you…
Monday, June 11, 2007
k...beyond jobless! :)
| You Are 92% Tortured Genius |
 You totally fit the profile of a tortured genius. You're uniquely brilliant - and completely misunderstood. Not like you really want anyone to understand you anyway. You're pretty happy being an island. |
| The Keys to Your Heart |
 You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free. In love, you feel the most alive when your partner is patient and never willing to give up on you. You'd like to your lover to think you are loyal and faithful... that you'll never change. You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please. Your ideal relationship is open. Both of you can talk about everything... no secrets. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage pessimistically. You don't think happy marriages exist anymore. In this moment, you think of love as something you don't need. You just feel like flirting around and playing right now. |
| You Are 80% Misanthropic |
 Here's the truth: Most people suck. You are just lucky enough to know it. You're not ready to go live alone in a cave - but you're getting there. |
You Are 72% Feminine, 28% Masculine |
 You are in touch with your feminine side. Sensitive, intuitive, and caring are all words that describe you. And you're just masculine enough to relate to both men and women. |
| You True Love Will Maybe Find You |
 But it's going to be tough! You're not really around to find. You really need to get yourself out there if you're expecting to find love. Go somewhere (anywhere!) new from time to time. Or if you're really shy - at least join a dating site. |
| Your Sloth Quotient: 80% |
 You're a pretty lazy person, and you relish in your own sloth. While being lazy does feel good, you're missing out on the really good parts of life that take a little work. |
| You Are Best Described By... |
 Impression, Sunrise By Claude Monet |
| You are 60% Taurus |
 |
even more jobless!
| Your Career Personality: Flexible, Good-Natured, and Energetic |
 Your Ideal Careers: Actor Dog walker Elementary school teacher Fashion designer Interior decorator Fundraiser Musician Personal shopper Veterinarian Wedding planner |
| You Belong in Paris |
 Stylish and expressive, you were meant for Paris. The art, the fashion, the wine! Whether you're enjoying the cafe life or a beautiful park... You'll love living in the most chic place on earth. |
| Your Vocabulary Score: A |
 Congratulations on your multifarious vocabulary! You must be quite an erudite person. |
| You Should Get An All Over Tattoo |
 Outrageous and funky Because you should never have to choose just one tattoo |
| You Are From Venus |
 You love all forms of beauty. You love dressing up and anything luxurious. A social butterfly, you're incredibly popular and a great host. You're known for your fairness and affection. And as a frind to all. Careful though! You're desire to please may make you too willing to conform. Be yourself. Focus on what matters to you. You'll be all the more popular for it. |
| You Belong in 1964 |
 You are a free spirit with a huge heart. Love, peace, and happiness rule - oh, and drugs too. |
| You are Agnostic |
 You're not sure if God exists, and you don't care. For you, there's no true way to figure out the divine. You rather focus on what you can control - your own life. And you tend to resent when others "sell" religion to you. |
jobless - or rather - ungainfully employed!
| Your Career Type: Artistic |
 You are expressive, original, and independent. Your talents lie in your artistic abilities: creative writing, drama, crafts, music, or art. You would make an excellent: Actor - Art Teacher - Book Editor Clothes Designer - Comedian - Composer Dancer - DJ - Graphic Designer Illustrator - Musician - Sculptor The worst career options for your are conventional careers, like bank teller or secretary. |
| Your Famous Movie Kiss is from Gone With The Wind |
 "Great balls of fire. Don't bother me anymore, and don't call me sugar." |
| Your Mind is 95% Cluttered |
 Your mind is incredibly cluttered. You have so much going on in there, it's hard to think straight. Consider talking to a therapist. It's a good idea to sort through your thoughts, if only to see which ones are worth hanging on to. |
Saturday, June 9, 2007
random rant – and a tribute to dylan
what’s the point of Life
and who said there had to be a point
Life is a series of gloomy episodes
juxtaposed with brief glimpses of sunshine
I wonder what we are so busy trying to achieve
fame, notoriety, pleasure, affluence, happiness
when these are but transitory phases, at best mediocre
and always counterfeit
for every pinnacle of joy you conquer, there is an even higher peak of sadness
then why this mad urge to go on? And on and on
why are we so carefully preserving ourselves
when these hour-glass figures and macho muscles
will one day be ashes to ashes and dust to dust
and who said there had to be a point
Life is a series of gloomy episodes
juxtaposed with brief glimpses of sunshine
I wonder what we are so busy trying to achieve
fame, notoriety, pleasure, affluence, happiness
when these are but transitory phases, at best mediocre
and always counterfeit
for every pinnacle of joy you conquer, there is an even higher peak of sadness
then why this mad urge to go on? And on and on
why are we so carefully preserving ourselves
when these hour-glass figures and macho muscles
will one day be ashes to ashes and dust to dust
at least if one could live with honesty, dignity
this miserable existence would somehow make sense,
to one who is so desperately trying to grasp a shard of clarity
in this miasma of hopelessness
I meet hypocrisy at every turn, in every face
a testimony to the futility of the ‘human cause’
judging by the way we treat animals, I know all is lost
but this random rant is neither here nor there
in this world of changing affiliations
where your heart becomes the biggest villain,
perhaps the only real hero is bob dylan
this miserable existence would somehow make sense,
to one who is so desperately trying to grasp a shard of clarity
in this miasma of hopelessness
I meet hypocrisy at every turn, in every face
a testimony to the futility of the ‘human cause’
judging by the way we treat animals, I know all is lost
but this random rant is neither here nor there
in this world of changing affiliations
where your heart becomes the biggest villain,
perhaps the only real hero is bob dylan
somewhere i have never traveled - e.e. cummings (umm...nice...)
somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
Sunday, May 27, 2007
absur-ditty (the second)
Being single is no crime
’cept maybe all your poems rhyme
’cause you want each word to have a pair
You see, when the Maker’s Creation was through
All the best ingredients went into you
There were none left to make a fitting spare
’cept maybe all your poems rhyme
’cause you want each word to have a pair
You see, when the Maker’s Creation was through
All the best ingredients went into you
There were none left to make a fitting spare
absur-ditty
I gave him my dil.
In an old mahogany frame
He kept on his window sill
Till it was consumed by a flame
For which his wife’s shrill
Tortured voice was to blame.
In an old mahogany frame
He kept on his window sill
Till it was consumed by a flame
For which his wife’s shrill
Tortured voice was to blame.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Ode to an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
When an Ugly Boy breaks his sister’s toy
When an Ugly Boy brings gloom to joy
When an Ugly Boy can’t gracefully dance
When an Ugly Boy has the loser’s stance
Is there someone there to give him another chance
Is there someone there to read his lonely glance
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
When an Ugly Boy is neither fat nor thin
When an Ugly Boy dribbles down his chin
When an Ugly Boy kicks his best friend’s shin
When an Ugly Boy makes his Momma’s head spin
Is there someone there who finds him cute
Is there someone there who doesn’t think he’s a brute
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
When an Ugly Boy learns to lie and steal
When an Ugly Boy starts to double deal
When an Ugly Boy stands up and fights
When an Ugly Boy asserts his rights
Is there someone there who sees a hero in him
Is there someone there who hears his cry within
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
When an Ugly Boy plucks his heart from the dust
When an Ugly Boy loses faith in trust
When an Ugly Boy does it all for love
When and Ugly Boy braves it all for love
When an Ugly Boy bows his head in shame
When an Ugly Boy breaks the rules of the game
When an Ugly Boy is neither meek nor commanding
When an Ugly Boy is the last one standing
Is there someone there who sheds a tear for him
Is there someone there to raise a cheer for him
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
When an Ugly Boy breaks his sister’s toy
When an Ugly Boy brings gloom to joy
When an Ugly Boy can’t gracefully dance
When an Ugly Boy has the loser’s stance
Is there someone there to give him another chance
Is there someone there to read his lonely glance
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
When an Ugly Boy is neither fat nor thin
When an Ugly Boy dribbles down his chin
When an Ugly Boy kicks his best friend’s shin
When an Ugly Boy makes his Momma’s head spin
Is there someone there who finds him cute
Is there someone there who doesn’t think he’s a brute
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
When an Ugly Boy learns to lie and steal
When an Ugly Boy starts to double deal
When an Ugly Boy stands up and fights
When an Ugly Boy asserts his rights
Is there someone there who sees a hero in him
Is there someone there who hears his cry within
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
When an Ugly Boy plucks his heart from the dust
When an Ugly Boy loses faith in trust
When an Ugly Boy does it all for love
When and Ugly Boy braves it all for love
When an Ugly Boy bows his head in shame
When an Ugly Boy breaks the rules of the game
When an Ugly Boy is neither meek nor commanding
When an Ugly Boy is the last one standing
Is there someone there who sheds a tear for him
Is there someone there to raise a cheer for him
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
