Sweet reminiscence glows like the poison in the air
That lends incandescence to sunset. "So, why should I care?"
Everyone knows a dullard asks. So I'll just stare
Through my morose colored gla**es.
All God's creatures pose with an empty hour gla**,
Keane painting features the sole defense this army has.
"What good are those?" a dullard asks, so please just pa**
Me my morose colored gla**es.
What good's the man who throws his hands up in distress?
Well he can scare away the birds I guess.
What good's the promise of love's sweet healing caress?
The muffled grave where it's interred - there's no peace in this rest.
Gaggles of Ghandis cry out "Everything must pa**!"
That may be so, but what's the rush, I ask.
There's no hard feelings; just a squishy pulpy ma**
Of pastel sentiment, but hush - baby's sleeping at last.
If man reflects, he might question why the angels sing,
But there's something s**y about the end of everything.
To prove how hard his co*k can be, he's hammering a f**hole in eternity. One final fling!
"Who gets the rights?" A dullard asks, so I just cling
To my morose colored gla**es.