A fine evening of breathing in tasty air!
The stickiness (O, Stickiness!)
of my mouth of cotton
makes me
cozily sleepily slumber
in the hammock of your head.
Listen to the exchange;
You're fired!
What?
You heard me!
::ignites the gasoline::
I'm in the fifth fraud!
Applaud
Man of fire
Man on fire
Torch the trees
Nuke the whales of inquisition!
Nobody suspects the Cetacea!
Drifting through the hex
Ex-Federal Agents to themselves
chasing purple perpetrators
Bar none...
the iron is soul'd out
[21:25|02.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter
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