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Orchestra of Bees.

In pretends of iron and twisted

          suit
I see the girl,
     I aim, I shoot.
And without wisdom pain relies
On self deducted
     peaks
          and
               highs.
Survive without a picture book
I find more use of arm than Hook.
     And one more prediction
I will make, just like a serpents
          Skin you'll slake.
And as I speed past on a Harley
     With both my nostrils
Stuffed with charley:
I void my bladder on your face
And Ker-junk in a more Momax place.


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John Walker and Adrian Cunliffe unless otherwise stated.
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