as he sobbed his way from pennsy to dallas texas - all he balled, he could not think a friend he found
once he learned hendersonville had the folks who'd shun his ails,
"wow," thought dyllie the head-injured clown
well, something quaked and volunteered was dyllie - he said, "ugh," and signed on up for just a thrill
and the lounged boy's sense of vim was to be oh-so threatened, because
though thanking, the dyl was prisoned
and he handed o'er his jimmy, and his soul 'came so unvogue,
and he soon wanted three bullets to his brain
though he's never had a leader, in his mind he'd 'come his own
just to beat the dude-enslaver at his game!
from a lounge known as dylan jacob's bedroom rose a man with a picked-up sense of 'man'
cuz his daring writes and rhymes made him the best from slight-of guy,
when you're less, love the realer man