Peculiar Mess (Penkelemes)

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There’s a fish in the stream you can’t catch.
And it always swims to the edge.
Drop the hook and it will eat the bait,
Then swim away without a scratch.

Once best friends the streets will always snatch;
Sometimes I feel like it’s his pledge.
The way these youths for their time can’t wait.
They want to change their roofs of thatch.

They’ll push drugs and guns; then can’t detach.
And speed in cars that have no wedge.
Then they die of their punishment’s weight.
I’ve seen it happen, batch by batch

There’s a fish in the stream you can’t catch.
And it always swims to the edge.
Drop the hook and it will eat the bait,
Then swim away without a scratch.

Younglan

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