Angry Head

My blood keep rising; face turn to red Battling in heart either to give a blow Getout! But still, thou's on the carpet Surely, like the dog to see its master flow The tears of frustration on the earth Like the rain that infiltrate the plants to grow Should a man die because he is the head? I wish I never answered my hearts call To lay my head on your mother's breast For like the bamboo tree; she was tall Which with figure eight shape give my speck And embedded excess if this; I fall I wonder how you got in to your mother's chamber And after nine of thirty first waiting days You came and now makes me agent of laughter And I turn in to a roaring lion everyday. Children of todays-morrow Be an embodiment of happiness To the roots of the trees of sorrow For the father is the trees head.