I'm gonna to fess up:
My rhyme's deranged.
"It's sophomoric stuff,
So act your age,"
Says a friend of mine
Who reads from time to time.
"You're wasting your mind,
'Cause your work's seamy,
Your work's seamy.

"I don't know why you
Should want to bide
Your time trying to
Write things implied.
So you spend your day'
Nothing useful to say.
I must turn away
From your work, seamy,
Your work seamy.

"Rhyme after rhyme
About sex and sh*t and p*ssin'
Your nasty mind'
Either warped, or lobes are missing.

"Your wordplays are few
And filled with sneers.
And I can't get through'
You've closed your ears.

"It's seamy and wrong:
Girls and beasts and dongs!
Why can't you write nice songs?!"
Now she won't see me,
She won't see me.
It's still seamy,
It's still seamy.