I saw his publications
I heard he had a style
And so I came to see him
To edit for a while
And there he was with red pen
A stranger to my prose
Marking my pain with his fingers
Adding a pause to my words
Killing my rhythm with commas
Killing my rhythm with commas
Mulling his rewrites to my words
Killing my rhythm with commas
I felt all flushed with anger
Embarrassed by this clown
His awful punctuation
Each mark it made me frown
I prayed that he would finish
But he just kept right on
Marking my pain with his fingers
Adding a pause to my words
Killing my rhythm with commas
Killing my rhythm with commas
Mulling his rewrites to my words
Killing my rhythm with commas
He scrawled as if he knew me
Red marks were ev’rywhere
Proceeding to review me
As if I wasn’t there
And he just kept on writing
Writing sure but wrong
Marking my pain with his fingers
Adding a pause to my words
Killing my rhythm with commas
Killing my rhythm with commas
Mulling his rewrites to my words
Killing my rhythm with commas
Marking my pain with his fingers
Adding a pause to my words
Killing my rhythm with commas
Killing my rhythm with commas
Mulling his rewrites to my words
Killing me
He was marking my pain
Yeah, he was adding a pause
Killing my rhythm with commas
Killing my rhythm with commas
Mulling his rewrites to my words
Killing my rhythm
with commas
