These are really mine, I stole them all from Webster’s; Every single word.
one of these days where the sun is out, sky blue, & everything's sideways
Can someone call a Doctor tell them we’re all sick Of playing these games
Pointing fingers these Phallic phantasmagoric pieces Exist above & below The boulevard. A strip-show scene thrumming With worldly travelers from the four corners Eager to spin wheels, win back their wages & the house they grew up in.