Boomerang

He likes to play an electric guitar

He does sing, but not in a choir

He thinks he's cool with his 19” tires

Got the looks but he's playing with fire

Always comes back like a boomerang back to me

The words of a liar do hurt like breaking a knee

Sober feels out of control

Evenings are high, morning are lowW

He can't accept that he's getting thirty

He's oh so slow, never in a hurry

He serves desire with hurt as a potion to me

Whenever he's gone he reinvents the word free