Whine

The hurt—it aches, and pulls apart
The soothing feeling in my heart
Bus’ness time of another day
Homework in a different way
To work at home for something more
Not waking on his bedroom floor
Now, here’s an apple, my dear. You
Lie beneath the tree with me too
I know this just may end up in sadness
Surely ‘fore it drives me into madness
For I just do not think I know my role
And for that, kid, we’ll smoke a bowl.