Roosters and swampy leaches,
always attacking the Georgia peaches,
darkened chasms oozing stench,
trying to control the velvet trench.
Leering eyes stare out at mountains,
saliva drools, like Trevi fountain,
imaginations in overdrive,
thinking about creating lives.
In the sty, squealing lies,
as the fairer fire fries,
in the grease, they exuded,
and the things, which they alluded.