An ox
Floating on top of a dime
Latte laden bi-sexual thoughts
Thread themselves with gay momentum
Don't mean to be coy
By gay I certainly mean happy
Pun intended
I drip with tonal layers of the tree of life
I am pooled in the wings of the howling owl
Who carries me to safety nightly as I sleep
My rival is sore and sobs loudly
While dreaming of gore
But it will be an Aeon before he finds me here
And if it wasn't for Lance there would be not a chance
Of these letters printed plainly across my chest
Every thread of every blanket
Every pane of guardian windows
Drafts us together for causes we do not yet understand
Being raw made me perfect for the fit
For the pick
I am the draft this season
So you better get along with it
Tires roll like taxes down proverbial myths
I say hello to the ones who are waving hi with their wrists
The "in" crowd was never where I belonged
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