Spring is here, and what shall we say,

Disconnected from this heated day,

It’s coming, spring, and the next thing,

And a poet was fumbling for words, he didn’t understand love,

Maybe work, or whatever that means,

A lot taken for granted, saladine, salad who,

Snake dancer, here I come, here I go,

To whoever comes to my show,

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

And there I’ll drop,

And there I’ll sing,

Something something,

Spring is beginning,

Is it almost here,

Maybe something queer,

Maybe a second exit,

An explanation,

For fires that have been spreading,

Infected with that love sick story,

Of religion and love,

And something told me,

A dove would come from above,

Of which we’d feast,

Of which we’d consume,

And pretend that we’re pure,

Or poor, or capitalism man,

Or this guy feels like telling a joke,

And the height would never let you in,

So assume we’re just a white hare,

A wet cat, stick your dick in,

And here we go, and out we come,

For when the song, humm, sing along,

Something dreadful,

Something new,

Someone came to you,

I’m dying of thirst,

The world is crying,

But the heat had just begun,

Demons and ghosts,

Orange and reconciliation,

Sweet honey buns,

For everyone...