The sun is a glaring Mom. She has Nine toddlers in pull-ups robbing a liquor store They scream like goblins coated slippery in A+D, (but the money tastes like sand) buttery streams of light in the air that smells like chewed fireworks.
Baby Blue silence. Then
“Langston McCaw! LA County Sheriff!” the Sheriff is dead McCaw is an accountant over at Sherman and- But he doesn’t like to talk about it. Sun setting sets the air habanero “Look about it” the babies cry Those chubby voices of rage. Liquor quivering milky and hot I ripped the roof and reached- J-Dog has snatched another thief And he will take the lil’ ***** to the holding cell that thinks Where he will be questioned by ten petite police
These babies won’t bite the bakers back again!
“Si tu vois ma mere” broken Bombay bottle sings in despair as Giant mother tomato sun fell, Madness doesn’t cease it goes around.