creeping crawling something burning
everything is somehow yearning
thoughts of deep and twisted sighings
sometimes you just know they're lying
fun it stops and round it goes
and comes again so touch your nose
its still there its not that cold
but check your hair it's getting old
rambling down the ramp of summer
lake boat fills us back with wonder
you thought I was saying i'm rambling
better writing than sit and gambling
what comes next I do not know
but I keep writing even though
I'll stop when I run out of words
oh look there goes some pretty birds
oh wait their fish but they are flying
big fat tuna down there dying
sitting sweet on dinner plates
oh shut up this fish is great
ok I think I'm stopping now
right after I just take this bow