He is a crazy but lad that yearns
to raise a seance that resonates
deeply in his heart where his past
with a lariat are in his throes again
yet he's ultimately commanded
his dire inspiration in plaid
that molasses is strewn in rope
as his primary experience
and desires catapult in spirit  
though with his lips of wine weep
in blood but still by political lines
why in heaven butters his bread
and easily tie his stead again
that weld his guile forthwith a tape
where vespers have borne even law
backing sustenance upon decree
that rudder his existence along borders in trades