Buddy knew the prepared man
Stood in a conditional stream.
In the flow of conditions a prepared man
Might realize his every dream.
Assisted by a bit of scheming.
And likely with a clock he cleaned.
He could climb to the top
Of a mount so rotten
That it’s sight made people sick.
A malodor so damn thick
From the mountain top
From the putrid rot
That the climbers could not taste.
And in their climbing haste
They noticed not the decay
Of early climbers who prayed
To the rotten mountain creator.
Asking for the path
To avoid the wrath
Of the anguished pack
As the bodies piled up at base camp.
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