Not what it used to be.
I’m conforming my individuality.
I’ve been stolen,
Stripped and sold for parts.
I continue on unroadworthy.
Hoping no-one will notice.
The day will come when I’ll get pulled aside.
Asked to show what goes on inside.
Full of imitations and nothing genuine.
Out in the open with nowhere to hide.
Surgery of a soul In need of repair.
Tiny little instruments used with such care.
A spirit mechanic with a look of despair.
Some things just aren’t worth saving.