It’s paper, fool!
A goddamn tool!
Rocks with a hole.
A soft metal gold.
A garden rake owed.
A line not towed.
Some seeds unsewed.
Me, I whisper…
Don’t look up.
Cause waay up there
You’re outa luck.
Barry
Barry Williams
http://barry-williams.com/blog
Much of what I write will be quite understandable to insane folks.
The rest will be, uh, less understandable...
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