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Literature Text
Where are we going, Mousy?
To the parlor of the fly,
Dear Kiwi,
the one in the desert with no name,
ten thousand miles from heaven,
yet closer to hell than ever before.
Why are we going, Mousy?
To eat ice cream off the devil's tail,
Dear Kiwi,
before he says to walk
the turtle into the lake of ice and flame.
How will we get there, Mousy?
By bus,
Dear Kiwi,
by filthy boxes on wheels,
with carbon copy driver
who think only of unicycles ridden by squirrels.
To the parlor of the fly,
Dear Kiwi,
the one in the desert with no name,
ten thousand miles from heaven,
yet closer to hell than ever before.
Why are we going, Mousy?
To eat ice cream off the devil's tail,
Dear Kiwi,
before he says to walk
the turtle into the lake of ice and flame.
How will we get there, Mousy?
By bus,
Dear Kiwi,
by filthy boxes on wheels,
with carbon copy driver
who think only of unicycles ridden by squirrels.
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I was talking to someone on Omegle.com and this popped into my head.
© 2010 - 2024 SekhmetReborn
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