My love Rests on imaginary nails. My body 'neath moonlit willow trees, The siren calling, "Hari Krishna!" Pulling the monk Out from Under dreams of harmony and peace, to place Love back in it's proper hierarchy. Tossing his silken gown, We prey.
Oh, Laridae, all feathers and beak, how we do adore your screech. Granted, puffy, squawking bird, anything you may beseech. Our sweet Kleptoparasite of beach. House it anytime we meet, with brute force and shellfish plea, you'll be the king of seas.