A painful hat, fedora sat on subordinates
Greasy success, with hazardous guessing inordinate
Juggling poodles, surgery of noodles in a cave
I’m a succulent succumbing, individuality for universally
Align the moon angels, on heat
Summoning ringside seats, singing plumbers who have fatburgs
Dying city, with none to morn her
Gallah pasta salad, for me. What will you have?