So you like to listen with ears that gander.. To the miraculous sound dance upon the veranda Through a ferocious pound of advanced verbal stamina Banging out precocious power like political propaganda Whilst Sanding down atrocious Towers of satirical working man hours Miles of hanging around with flowers that gave us powers and led us to pipeline dreams We thought we was Mario and Luigi it seems... Cross pollination from a hybrid nation Brought up on Nintendos and playstations To then sort out endo and thc equations Buttercups and Daisy chains utter such hazy frames for stutter much wavy brains that pucker up for glazey games... A beautiful mistress coming with cuticle dizziness can be fruitful in optical misgiving ness Goddess awareness was always the fairest nest yet the one I always invest in is high hats and snares Always there to ingest a rhymes saps and wears More playful than a caress of sly ******* stares... Apples and peaches of bums with succulent pears Meet battle sound features on drums of reluctant fears Whilst Cattle bound Creatures hum decedent sneers And Snapple drowned preachers hear irrelevant prayers
Bionic biopics from ironic orifices Leave subsonic tonics drawn for moronic sonnets...iconic comics form sardonic harmonics for all the polyphonics with bees in their bonnets As the Flutterbuys scuttle buy you and I as I utter why do the good girls always make me cry Yet the bad girls get me high As they wind and grind with nature's sweet sunset vibes it's always a pleasure I treasure to take this fair weather ride Whereas the good girls just make me sigh and I wonder why I cry when they say goodbye maybe good isn't something for the likes of you and I these are the wonders of why try in an age of Wi-Fi So we'll stick to our fly by drive by guise of rampage rides through each other's insides..
So come and gather at the miraculous sound dance on the veranda Go run and gather up haphazardous fondants for a poetic stanza The sun can hammer us with glamorous fragments for a consciousness Bonanza
A break in the pores is a take from the draws as something is coming to you from a cause A screed and a scrape off the times the mind's been in need of a gauze From the marks she adores from her kitty cat claws From crimes that hear a applause for the kind of sports only a blind horse could report So Don't be mortified or horrified for being glorified through a poet's eyes it means you've fortified the tortured side of a fantasist sky which is now where you lie as it's hard to deny you've been immortalized…. Ooh yes see..that is your prize