Veggie Blunt
My babies loved the cats,
through the ages of the naps,
in the pages,
in the clasp,
on the floor,
atop a mat,
I pull it out and flip a bat-
let a lover free the band,
so I may rebuttal and unleash some wrath...
Because just one tap on the blacks,
leads a lover to the back,
just like one Cambridge man of the past-
holds a drink,
and chats your gas-
shoots your lore back at the boss-
holds your cross with MS DOS,
dances slow,
without a flirt,
dances slow,
and acts the jerk,
wounds the birds,
with sailing lurch,
corrodes the curbs,
with wheeling verse,
feeling verve-
eats the skirts,
while doing peddles,
and bronzing metals,
mutating meadows,
while racing against yellows,
seasons those fellows pollinating in the bellows-
of an R1 while you're having so much fun...
Being a beast while you're facing the gun,
in the rip of time between going home and burning the buns,
focusing on the fever that got you your lump some.
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