The World Is Ending On Your Birthday

It's your birthday, December twenty first make a wish let the candelabras burn an inch something precious in the morning, evening kiss you've always longed for. Pray beneath the mistletoe, adorned grab your popcorn the couch besides the window looks so grand take a peek with a smack of lips on buttery fingers, *prang!* there goes the earthly orb. Park your derriere mid-chew enjoy the riots, panicked, raving loons peering out with that last piece of popcorn in your mouth hear those shouts that the world is ending breathe the fumes the flames are sending see the crowds of mental patients cry the morning after the disaster sends the paranoia hangover *High!* of a cityscape in shreds sirens resonating with your bed a good book to send yourself to dream, it was your birthday today and you got to listen to the lunatics scream.