The pathetic pallet smacks at the groan of the evening

Helped by cruel magic during the cruel summer

Every pigmentation sings in a crowd of awstruck eyes

Staring through a window of height, a keyhole of doubt

Very much so, thank you

Just in case finds itself unmasked and haunted by fledgling bird warnings

Remasked are the evergreens

Young boy scouts go missing in them, any birds would be a luxury

Ears between the bark ribs scather honey mist

It clings to their olive drab and reminds them of bread crusts

Eating them makes you whistle better



JUST ASK THE MAN YOURSELF.

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