When a peacock feather is a favored kippah
shadows are scattering all around the walking poles
As many as the lamp posts above, and as much
as the confined eruptions on their shoes-
Don't we have to calm down,
At this age, we're still quarreling with cones of ice-cream!
It worth no mention for every bowing new, to the stage
"A pinch of yours, ladies and gentlemen."
Fractions of time that keep on erecting eternity
along with a mixed-up discrete one totem
A biased smoker tent pole, Your Mercy!!
In accompany with no one is the only loser.
No centrism is worse than another in the measures
of dust. Since the marrow bone,
Idols and fashions pile more and more on our skin.
You bet not on a monster, and you win
satisfied, proud of your lure.
You'd better take care when that white rat
blinks in the dark, again.
