The counter intuitive action consumes the
Thorough blow to the chest
From icy winds -
We flee

Gusts of geranimo stall and cluck
Like fearsome dions
And freakishly or fittingly
The armour is won

A wooly hat, woven from a spider hat
The classlessness has treathed forth
Since the beginning though

And these days it's a matter of
Who catching whom
Or whom catching who

When it should be who catching you