One who is smoke must burn bright
For the darkening hallows of the night
Overtake one's ivory sacrifice and whim
And leaves one within cages made of black, black lights
Cover your shoes with the green of envy
Your neighbour will exclaim "It's the enemy!"
You will kneel before his blind judgement
Just like all those before your wise originality
Gift your sons with purple visage mountaintops
He'll thank you kindly with his bucket and mop
But the water wil be salted with continuity
And your new shelves will be filled with rot
Dress your barmaid with the pen you forgot
She does not know better than the final dot.
She has lines and lines of paragliding waitresses
Dining within her yellow washed iron pot
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