Won't

So, why should I sing?
I'm standing, enjoying a mad frantic face
Of a miserly man
I'm trampling his land
While he’s tearfully begging for Lisa Alert
To find that lovely desirable lash
His lovely pocket lash, yeah

Just to try it on my back
To find my frail neck
To find again and grab
To find again and grab
To pull my leg, mixing my face with fresh dog shit
I'm standing, enjoying a flawless typical coda
Hoping to taste that wit

Where I drew a still lifes with the words
And you silently called them the fucking daub
Where I fed hungry songs and gave them the plots
Not a verselets from motley postcards
Where I begged so many times
You won't do it, will you?
You won't, will you?
You won't

And you actually won’t listen to this ugly song

So, why should I sing
Without any coats of arms
I have no right to scream
So many rhymes, alright
I have no wings to fly
I have no flag to wave
To Pitchfork scouts tonight
I have no stamps, any hashtags
To make me clear for thousand lazy minds
And this non-singing shitty style
Clumsy translation, foreign state of mind
Billboard will cry with laughter
Will make a cuckoo sign
And you won’t listen to this ugly stuff
I know this road, which’s named
“The way of Samurai”
Where hungry Tanto waits for hero
Waits for honey blood