Sunday morning.
It is the battle of the sheets!
I struggle with a slab of fat, arg!
I combat a vicious plate of flesh, arg!
Came the afternoon under a bleak December sky
and here it was, a pane of hair
A theory of hair
Magnificent hair that grows only in my imagination
The hair wants to fight a duel with me.
Oh!
I throw ornamental plants at it, them
I try prehistoric passes, but
The magnificent hair gives me a wicked smile
and with a mischievous swing,
woooosh! the pane of hair slices a thin inscription from me
what inscription? What words? These:
“This piece of glass is very flexible.”
this was a long time ago
Far, far from here
In a golden castle it happened
I fled its walls
I fled the country
I fled from you, and that meant from me
It is the battle of the sheets!
I struggle with a slab of fat, arg!
I combat a vicious plate of flesh, arg!
Came the afternoon under a bleak December sky
and here it was, a pane of hair
A theory of hair
Magnificent hair that grows only in my imagination
The hair wants to fight a duel with me.
Oh!
I throw ornamental plants at it, them
I try prehistoric passes, but
The magnificent hair gives me a wicked smile
and with a mischievous swing,
woooosh! the pane of hair slices a thin inscription from me
what inscription? What words? These:
“This piece of glass is very flexible.”
this was a long time ago
Far, far from here
In a golden castle it happened
I fled its walls
I fled the country
I fled from you, and that meant from me
::: ::: :::
[Picture: As old as the hills the castle was built on by reading_is_dangerous]
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