In the can of baits, sir!
You know what the exist somewhere in the can.
Under the dirt, at the bottom of the can.
There are that don't mind.
The accept anything,

Because know of nothing better.
Look over there: one of those has found glue very interesting.
Huh?
Well fuck you too!
You don't have to listen.
These couldn't smell as good as you do... only, only, the satin curtains of the are sprayed and stained.
It creates the correct feeling.
The are somewhere behind their curtains, as usual.
Just happy when it comes down their way.
Are at the bottom of that can for the fish et al.

Rat race is going on.
Feel the burn.
In the can they have it their way loud and ugly.
Well, as you might know,
"They said it all in the madhouse already.
Even in the Room 101.
It was all said; nothing done.
In slump - reaching for a breath.
Mmm surges of gold flow wild.

Crystals... fools... adios.
The are not real, are they?
Depends on where the floor is, where the roof is and above all, whether such limitations exist in the first place.
For the the cry echoes negative.
Simultaneously, the party is about to begin.
Have a rocking tour.

Sincerely