Point ain't no mine and grammar likewise. (A tale of poetry and bad English)
It happens when from time to time
You talk not knowing `bout what.\
And there comes time to be polite
And he/she asks not knowing why
About someone mentioned once:
-That yours, God knows his name, is fine?
-Just listen, Mom, he ain't no mine!
He ain't no mine,
She ain't no his
And I'm none but sincerely yours.
He ain't no mine,
She ain't no his
And I am... If I still exist.
Just listen, someone listen me,
I'm understood but never heard,
Expressing thoughts that could be fine,
But - sudden stop - they ain't no mine.
They ain't no mine,
I ain't no yours,
You are the one to listen me:
They ain't no mine
And so you are,
But I don't care, I just exist.
Existing kills and so does life
And writers do, if just for rhyme,
I do, he does, my grammar says
`long with an inner voice of mine.
The voice of mine,
The ear of yours.
Who cares if none of them exist?
I will repeat
And one more time
And there'd definitely be no rhyme.