There is a stump with a lawn chair on top in a yard with dirt,

no one knows how it got there, like a cheesy line insert,

some say the Gods struck it down upon yonder tree stump,

other folks say the lawn chair was dipped in the same stuff as Achilles,

that was some reason left at the dump,

but lock in a bond they are,

through wind and winter,

they locked tight as if holding hands in a ***** bar,

you may ask me what I think in some way or another,

but I think they are lovers frozen in bodies that never feel the sacrifice of weather,

holding onto what they can that stay still,

you may ask once again,

and I both despise and love their will.