Modern Frames, bless you all.
He stuffed his soul with sultanas But the fruit once dried causes A rush like crazy: The bats fly into walls, Women sit like they've just gone blind. So the story goes All these modern woes Clambering Inside But then the matrons Hose us down. Deep down deep. But the bliss does so seep... So silently now, go back to sleep. And running late Is only a game Caught playing idle in the isle. Do you want to shout or rage? Your gladrag is slapping me upside The face. A disgrace that in order For you to saunter with your materials in tow A cow had to lend his hide. Raw hide. Low tide, Let me off this crazy train. And off you get, you lazy swine I am glad that we are bipedal I'm glad we use our thumbs To browse through things Copiously, incessantly, On the train that rides without A line. The games over! Sucking some scum and The rose does come, blooming next To the scattered biscuit crumb, I've lost control Unbalanced insole, I'll fall and taint the petals With my rush of blood. And then I've died a crazy horse.










