Everyone wants to be told
Nice things
True things are like bee stings
People want to be exalted like kings
People want to be told nice things
How nice their shabby hairs look
Cute their daunted faces look
How right their wrong decisions

Tell a fat woman she’s fat
She’ll yell if she won’t fight
Claim you denied her a right
Women want to be called ladies
Men, even the rogue, want to be called

You can’t tell a friend she’s a bad dress
You’ll hurt her feelings
Even when we die
We want to hear praises
We were peaceful yet we robbed
Killed, aborted, defiled
Even a priest as he is buried
Though he messed at some point
He wants to be called an