Exhausted

My mind is foolish and am hating what I love
I better be at the shores laughing at the fall of the sun.
For I've bitten more than mouth can chew and there's only one way out
Break the ice and award justice to self.
My head riots in meditation like a pay day
I may not have the gut to eat a horse like I do each morning
Nor the iron fist I use to carry on each arrival
But will possibly make a mark in the land of the weak and weary.
Even the best of serenades is sounding like the song of the bees in my temple
I couldn't keep that industrious ant I was before now
What is the strength of a man?
Far from boiling the ocean  
My seat have preapared yam at the sight of my butts
A cargo of lead is resting shoulders in my boots
Pooped out like hell but a break could be a friend
I'm falling from a cliff and obsessed with this curse of old age
You see these naked papers I won't  dress them in black and white.
Nauseate or naughtiness
The bell to home is calling