Shrivelled Strawberries are all juiced out.
The fields are to long they block out the streams.

Save yourself from the grains then dropped to many blind mice.
Mines a fried egg , in demand for a content Sunday morning.

Existing for your touch and picture in a frame.
There will be nothing left yearn for but the nest in virtual gain.

Never warranted, never examined.
Dripping taps and a head full of sour *****

Get born again and have the hourly flap jack.
What’s the reason? Give another slip.

I saw this coming, the brand new exclusive six hour clip.
Loaded in a dangerous weapon of peace.

Embrace the floor, thought it shallows the soles of boundless feet.
Inherit the soul that squeezes.

There are the strawberries in a picnic in the middle of winter.
Call us callous and homeless with bitter springs.

Must I follow gutless, mute kings?
I ate the dinner and the news does stink.

You must forgive, you must forget.
This demon sinister is hell bent.

No better to speak the truth.
Jockey full of **** will coil, shake and drain the juice.

Much love and strawberries thought the mouths are dry.
Much prefer a leg of lamb.

Near Apocalypse and blessed is the tinned spam.