It must be strange to have five feet,
Which open clamshells nice and neat,
And hunt the shallow ocean floor,
Equipped with these and little more.
One day washed up high and dry,
Underneath the arid sky,
To end your days on some child's shelf.
I think I'd rather be myself.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 8:58 PM UTC
It must be strange to have five feet,
Which open clamshells nice and neat,
And hunt the shallow ocean floor,
Equipped with these and little more.
One day washed up high and dry,
Underneath the arid sky,
To end your days on some child's shelf.
I think I'd rather be myself.
