Excessive with assumptions;
They quibble all amongst them.
And the cox’s have all but crowed for day;
But their hoping they may play.
And the chickens with their golden straws;
They’re digging with their claws
Scratching signs of peace on earth;
As they hide their shadows girth.
And the slingers learned to draw their guns;
But they’re often on the run;
But the seekers love to stay intense;
While hanging from the fence.
And I am but a ricochet;
Bouncing off the sounds;
Because of all the things I’ve ever heard;
They can sometimes be absurd;