The sky breathes tonight
We've all been left aflutter
to our own devices
We power the lights
(They're flickering)
Our eyes are wandering.
"It's good to be the King"
Claiming the Merrily
Mayorly throne
Exclaiming Proclaiming
"Dead Baby Seals for all"
Shaming
A failed amphibious revolution
Keep eyes on prizes
I'm misguided
By long legs, tall heels-
My sensual seasonal
My guard falls for armies
(with splinters)
Watching careful naivity
with weak ankles
"Those heels will not do"
A crew of certain conquest
Foxy ladies needn't wear flip flops
With destruction in their wake
For our chambers echo
Loud Flippers
Nibbled into submission.
"Where's my paperweight, and how bout that coffee?"
My advisor, the knees we all sit upon
Tangled in confusion
Our office,
Our Madhouse
He keeps.
Captain Cornelius, protector of all, slayer of some, and thwarter of Foxes (on occasion).
Our Madhouse-
dead animals everywhere
Confusion
Dissension
...the maid... is riding foxes...
...the fox... is eating the wildlife
...the advisor... is running the show
...the Mayor... has no idea what's going on.
...the City...
feast your eyes on what you can't yet see.
We are the future
the unstoppable
the unmerciful four (and Bast on occasion)
We are the City.
We are the Chumps.
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My ode to the sexy foxey lady, the sexy seasonal Tim, and the sexy Cornelius, who makes my office chair alot more comfortable.
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