Buddy held the shitty end
Of waay too many sticks.
And wash his hands a thousand times
They still stink a little bit.
Couldn’t get rid of it.
Not the smell of shit.
That reeked but wasn’t it.
It was these goddamn hands
Would not stay out.
Plunged into that water.
When they really, really oughta.
Stay high and dry but
Too fast
They shout
With an inside voice
They made this choice
Knowing shit won’t change
So they arrange
To change.
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