What Does She Think
Who knows what she thinks?
With a carryon in the bong,
we can all feel a fawn-
an elf or even a lawn,
choreograph the Kong,
won-ton the Chong...
We can all get along,
but with a wrong,
we can’t rewrite the-
without a face we can’t despite against ya.
In an ace there is a heightened –ah?
Like color of lace,
it's a mighty puck,
where it goes is the fight in ya.
With the case of the buyers luck-
the liars had struck the mired guck,
But why must they fire at all of ya?
If I’m inspired,
i’d hire ya,
rewire ta-
bake a higher ****!
Get by or duck!
Ever seen god tired?
he’d leave ya admired,
never forgets it’s the bean stock,
that makes a flock,
and its a shame to spot,
with your fingers,
fibers-
or even your hot,
so why with-stand when tomorrow is starin’ at ya?
Its gods hand that is in the pocket lock,
sheep talk,
or even a reed walk...
Hatein' it in a state of fleeing,
strumming or heating-
blind or not the eye’s are still teeming,
so common common-man get down,
that frown isn’t appealing…
Get yourself a crowd and put a sheet on the bleeding!
Copyright © Jimmi Canada | Year Posted 2013
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