To rivit and gaze abrrantly
Your visually sick behind retina
Processing on whimsical stammor
Docket’s of false telltale pouring from hundreds of mouths
All while one gamming sheray from your eyes says enough
Those worn graying-blued bags underneath;
They show a hard working bluff
Devised; let’s embellish our stares of evil on outward crowds
Let us pick out other bagged eye crevices, and not moving blabbers’
Nothing but the time they’ve gave; those wise ******* dabblers’
We glance the demon out for thrill
We are the visually ill.