Forget lithe spleen habits in song
decorate the garrulous limb with homicide
can you peel lost pulpmeat so long?
Sure I can, imam, stoney peach part
it’s hard to angle rods and cones and start
pilfer petticoats scratching rheumy time
forward to part, coalesce in King Kong
twist me up a dooby, Cal, drink insecticide
Hand me a poodle, I want to feel aligned
to the Axis, split, ballpeen is fine
Gilgamesh has lunged for the twister mat
Slap, apparently, look to nibble and long
in my heart for a steamed milk enema lied
ten minutes ago I touched a hamster and cried