Veggie Blunt

My babies loved the cats, through the ages of the naps, in the pages, in the clasp, on the floor, atop a mat, I pull it out and flip a bat- let a lover free the band, so I may rebuttal and unleash some wrath... Because just one tap on the blacks, leads a lover to the back, just like one Cambridge man of the past- holds a drink, and chats your gas- shoots your lore back at the boss- holds your cross with MS DOS, dances slow, without a flirt, dances slow, and acts the jerk, wounds the birds, with sailing lurch, corrodes the curbs, with wheeling verse, feeling verve- eats the skirts, while doing peddles, and bronzing metals, mutating meadows, while racing against yellows, seasons those fellows pollinating in the bellows- of an R1 while you're having so much fun... Being a beast while you're facing the gun, in the rip of time between going home and burning the buns, focusing on the fever that got you your lump some.