precision metal and beveled fonts
spin the knurl and left lamont
hanging by a thin thread
the things he thought were said
stuck in his head
text couldn't be read
he's just sick about it
the 64th of november
is easily divided
by eight and my did
he scream and slide
his hand along the red
pipe dreams of being dead
five colors hanging
on the screen banging
a regimented tune
the purple buffoon
flips an eight ball
to see who to call
trill and spun flourish
not lacking in courage
to knock on your door
but there's more
leave you sore
but laughing
