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| Testosterone Testosterone is my name, but they call me Testy Jack With an arrow in my cap, and a bulls eye on my back Crazier now then I ever have been and I never will be at this moment again. Me? I'm a killer, I like the sight of blood, when there's rain in the desert, I go down in the flood so, let’s have a duel, I’ll give you till three I could do it quicker, but then no one would see Tapping out Help on the old Morse code What’s that he’s saying about having lots of gold? Sweet truth is the candy that men turn away Sweet lies are what cause little white truth decay Care to explain before they put you in the ground? If you can’t speak your peace, then just write it down If you can’t write or read, then act out the scene Testy Jack can’t act, now do you see what I mean? They called him a coward who raised the white flag He wanted mercy for surrendering, after every chance he had But how do you say you’re sorry, When there’s a bulls eye on your back, When your born into Testosterone, And they call you, Testy Jack -Chadwick James (poet/singer/songwriter) Tucson, AZ Testosterone There is a rag-tag bob-tailed army of men, who share the way they feel and think, with something they all have in common, it's called testosterone. Here let me speak. These mighty men with the dramatic stare you'll find them anywhere, in Zorba's bar, remember he's the big Greek, their nonchalant look mark them out as macho men, sometimes known as Gaucho or Bandito too. Look at them as they twirl their waxed moustachios or set the hat back on their big head. Just escaped an arrow through the top but they won't admit they bled. “More wine waiter “, they shout in Spanglish. But enough said as they spit in the dust. Oh, they all drink wine, but behave like swine, to the women who love them best. Testosterone makes them act kinda rough like Russian Mafia stuff. And do these men swagger? Yes, all the time, what a crime with their bandellero of bullets around their chest all set to use the Morse code machine for a dare or as a target, I guess. In fact tiny targets are everywhere it seems. In the middle of a desert, on the spiky cacti so green. I cant' help but think of men like Don Quixote letting off steam or maybe its all bluster like a role set up for Steve-film star-McQueen. But talking of films remember 'Blood and Sand' with that gypsy matador prepared to give his life? For love and testosterone he 's hero to the girls, they with the twinkling stars in their eyes, it's because of them he'll reach up for the skies. All young men dream and scheme playing soft lovesongs in the sunset blaze for it's testosterone that drives them on to be nobody's slave. Hurrah! My friends. -Cleveland W. Gibson, (Author of Billabongo) Faringdon, Oxon, United Kingdom |
