I’m despairingly left-handed
From my morals to my pen,
And I’m bound to make wrong choices
Some nine times out of ten.

For at my birth, my wires crossed,
Chose left instead of right,
To be my strong side—so began,
The story of my life.

I smear the granite when I write,
While yours stays nice and neat.
My left foot starts when dancing
Which results in tangled feet.

And I always make bad choices
‘Cause I favor my left side,
Where on my shoulder, dressed in red,
The devil close resides.

And my poor angel’s never heard,
Because my right’s not strong,
And I listen to the devil’s voice,
Even though I know he’s wrong.

There is that one time out of ten,
When I don’t make things a mess,
But it’s not due to my angel—
I just make a lucky guess.

So I try to make no choices
And to stay upon the fence,
But I always lose my balance,
And I end up falling left.