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Quandary ©

Baba
Stewarton, Scotland
2005

I'm wrestling with my conscience and I'm really in a bind
I could ignore the matter, just pretend that I am blind
But that would just be childish, that's just acting immature
I wish I had an answer, oh, I wish I had a cure

My wringing hands are chaffing and my pacing feet are sore
If an answer's not forthcoming I'll just have to pace some more
I'm dancing round the issue, I'm just skirting round the edge
Like that suicidal leaper who flirts with danger on the ledge

She'll find out soon, I know she will, so hurry up and think
If I make the wrong decision it will cause an awful stink
On the one hand there's divorce, of course, on the other I don't know
I should, perhaps, just pack my bags, just leave a note and go

I swear this situation will only fracture kith and kin
Damn this cursed quandary that my fate has placed me in
Now what is my dilemma, what is causing all this strife?
Well should I keep this lottery win or share it with my wife?


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