a word is pretty stark itself
in darkness, all alone
but when parading with it's friends
it makes it's feelings known
yes, words are little orphans
that are looking for a home
you've got to bend the language
when you find yourself a poem
a word does not a pattern make
designs are not yet shown
but when it reaches out it's hands
with others that are strewn
yes, words are curly hair-dos
that you run through with a comb
you've got to bend the language
when you style yourself a poem
a word is strangely silent
like a lifeless slab of stone
but when it swims with others
it evolves to flesh and bone
yes, words are squirming fishes
webster tossed into a tome
you've got to bend the language
when you trap yourself a poem
a word is just a unit
that is useless on it's own
but when it joins it's neighbors
it expands out of it's zone
yes, words are picket fences
that are curved into a dome
you've got to bend the language
when you build yourself a poem
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