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lucy-tonicPoems
I'm driving, hands on the yoke I bought it by acting like One But I dread every Monday My eyes shoot missiles to the moon Every night on Sunday It's ok, let the bombs go off Erase some of my misinformation We're all in handcuffs anyway But who's got the crooked stick I'm flying, hands on the yoke I was taught it by acting like One But I dread every knock-knock joke My co-pilot tells me as he eats Blood oranges It's ok, let the bombs go off Erase some of my misinformation We're all in handcuffs anyway But who keeps beating me with wood The death sales, the dead don't sell How did it start, when did it sail An all the ELFs have taken The death ray off the shelf So all our cells can scurry
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Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 6:56 PM UTC
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I'm driving, hands on the yoke I bought it by acting like One But I dread every Monday My eyes shoot missiles to the moon Every night on Sunday It's ok, let the bombs go off Erase some of my misinformation We're all in handcuffs anyway But who's got the crooked stick I'm flying, hands on the yoke I was taught it by acting like One But I dread every knock-knock joke My co-pilot tells me as he eats Blood oranges It's ok, let the bombs go off Erase some of my misinformation We're all in handcuffs anyway But who keeps beating me with wood The death sales, the dead don't sell How did it start, when did it sail An all the ELFs have taken The death ray off the shelf So all our cells can scurry
lucy-tonic
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lucy-tonic
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 6:56 PM UTC
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