Project my skeleton over into the river's clammy rubbing palms.
Just like a sweaty villain exacting his faultless revenge.
Allow that villain to roll bones around in a hot stained towel and wipe me clean.
(of perspiration pooled fingerprints)
Then, of course, it could decide weather to let me flow nicely
As a severed string green bean kite,
Or carry me head first into a ****** dam.
Either way it plays out,
I'm dry.