There was once a loner
Strutting through the streets with a chip on his shoulder
He would pick a fight with anyone even if he was older
People thought he was a stoner
He was Pugnacious Puttuswamy
It didn’t matter if the weather was barmy
He was always ready to get all swarmy
But as it always is
People are rarely associated with the cola not the fizz
Pugnacious was not how he was born
He was merely lovelorn
On occasion he would change
Stop in the middle of his rage
When she would walk or drive past at a distance
He would tearfully look at her askance
Oh the pugnacity
Was merely a veil
That embalmed a heart that broke without fail
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