I've got an eclectic taste; everyone who knows me better than they can throw me will say it
(Those that can throw me better than they know me are giants
And they aren't allowed to exist too near me;
I'm a Halfling.)
But my tastes are eclectic, and my album choices range from "Ten$ion" to "Merry Christmas"
My palate asks for potato salad, then daiquiri ice
I love the way Trainspotting wraps up nicely and how T2 comes along and undoes the work of the previous film-- ruins it
And then I love The Grand Budapest Hotel for being well-kept and neat
I have a range of tastes that don't align, that don't make sense.
But with you, my eccentricity ends and my choice is flavorful.
I choose you and you are not an eclectic choice.
You are the sense in my senseless choosing, the centre of the fractal whose patterns are too convoluted
You tie me all together in a nice, neat bow and here I am
Standing on a mound 5/2 of a year thick.