Good morning, he said, as he walked across the beach
A beautiful island completely out of reach.
Hey everybody, she cried, as she looked around
The house of mirrors hardly uttered a sound.
Oblivious and charming and intelligent and more
A large built man with a voice of proud
The mind of many, I’ve lost all score
No one’s allowed, no, no one’s allowed.
Hues of pink and purple and marks of black
Like that dog in the manger who’s never in danger
We trap it and grab it and occupy our sack.
Oh the joy of killing, the killing of joy
As that beast sodomizes fifty girls and a boy.
No this isn’t what I wanted, this isn’t what I planned
Concepts banned and ideas rejected
I grow indifferent and swim on the land.
And as I trudge along, it still seems connected.
Can I have another glass of cranberry juice?
Tick tick tock tick tock tick tock
Turquoise pajamas and a hefty tool
A fist the size of a twenty pound rock
And all that’s left is a crimson pool.
When the sound of a gun and the sound of a guitar
All seem to hit you and stir you and fix you
Thoughts mix threat and remorse and regret
Our eyes pop out and your mouth turns blue.
And then it hit me.
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