The meter's off the charts and my fingers locked with cold stop
Crows fly out of their way to caw at me please stop
Sodium scotch espresso where the neck stops at the skull please
Engines compounding glee of the governor-elect hooray stop
Desecration accelerated by satchels of cash in the capital stop
Scarlet oaks flowers of the woods while they last advise please
Glowing toxins seep toward the surface flaring world stop
Money enough for fools hire the departments scatter the rest stop
Build me a forest the nightshade looks lovely stop please advise
copyright 2010 J. O'Brien, all rights reserved
