Sound of the electric woodsaw fills the southern air
as cars, buses and motorbikes rule the street out there.
To rhyme and be poetic – why do I care?
Lick your self fabricated spicy desire
and seek a cure for the tongue on fire!
God had a fall, her arm dropped down below
Man, being man used it to wipe his rear hole.
Now I am transcending, now I am willing
To design a mask to withstand the stink
and a thing to check the pulse of those machines,
I am using this quintessential style of thinking!