What's this? A set-up? I never volunteered To be the patsy. A whipping boy? Don't like the story line, Or being the understudy Of a flip side; An expendable. This is a con In night gallery.
I'm in the crowd, In the frame, And the shot is printed. Success at shutter speed.
Then you wrote a letter, Started it endearingly, Signed it with an old promise That once was clear to me.
She has tomato red lips, And kale green eyes, Strawberry cheeks, And warm earthy thighs. I tend to her daily, My garden of delight, And I'll harvest My labor of love Tonight.
Navigate, world wide Cloud cover Inside Divide, those who abide We want this life Or stones Crave both, abacus, radius Tools of bones Hip-connected phones or Being alone Hits home, four-tailed drone Drone, drone, drone