looking down a gunbarrel of intent
did all the spiders went
the ground so shakes

i am the master of feet
no one comes compleat
out of step we fakes

take what we sleeve
no use to grieve
hardwired

opening up the closing door
follow cracks in hidden floor
expired

touch me but don't
love me I won't
the far nearly there

I gasp at the hold
no value in gold
fling your donkie in the air

every night
love the fight in fear of sight
all the times a wastin'

ole lizard lips is Baskin
sister is always fasting
snip snip . . . tin tim