I was made for you to hate, There is no need for me that further to explain And yet, I cannot resist telling you all of this The recipe quite simple not to exist
Add:
A little dirt, some salt, hint of water and lots of plastic, Place them in a mould, then simply, fold Bake it all in a really big oven, Hopefully, something soon starts showing
A recipe might not as refined as that, which in the end, is just fine, oh snap!
I am here for all of you to peruse, Completely made of plastic, certainty elastic One in a million, but somehow unique like a billion
I may come from a top shelf But still manage to be oh so very custom made
“Things, affairs , all of it, might be wrong, a lot of them are, but, giving up hope, was never an option, never part of the grand plan either. Was it?“ Gun Roswell
“It’s hell out there! Surely we had some time to spare before it was about to happen I swear!” Someone exclaimed having taken a spun around the neighbourhood, having found it no fun at all.
“Have you seen the latest news?” Another one asked confused of the times. “It’s murder and mayhem for sure and that is the awful truth!”
“I don’t leave my house anymore. Just because it’s such a chore.” The third one chimed, certainly they were not feeling so fine. “Putting all them gear on, the armour or whatnot, just to feel safe and even then you cannot be sure.”
“The kids are all home schooled now, not that its of any use. Them all hanging on their game girls and fun stations, twatting about it all on the internets of things. Such misuse of the time. All of it wasted for sure. But the lure of it all is too much to ignore.” The mum from across the street shouted from the open window, never ever daring to leave her home.
“Truly is sad all of it. In the olden days, well, everything was so much sunnier, funnier, lighter and brighter. And now, it’s all such shades of greys.” A not so old person retorted to the others, from a safe distance but of course.
“Yeah, hell has certainly arrived to our small corner of the world. Then again, what did we expect with all them devils running around in our streets. But we did invite them here didn’t we?” And with that there was no rhyme to be seen, simply a comment of how things had turned out to be.
“Something certainly rattling up there… Could it be… a thought perhaps?” Gun Roswell
This, tiny, useful brain of mine Thinks, it is, doing just fine It keeps on going and going and going Even though my body yearns for slowing Down at night, well… sometimes And some other times Too needs, to rewind
So, I ask you nicely Please be kind Shut down Every once in a while Let me sleep Dream real deep And maybe a later I will reward you with a nice state of Quiz and debate
Rantings Of A Third Kind 