Chicken in my pocket

Trilogy of course a song at a pause, a tinkle in the sky due

Arrange all that arrangements within the arrearage that Providence was supplemented

A chicken in my pocket, a trinket in my socket, a heart in my song, along along

Spider and besides her hair, a beak of the finest pear, my gods it is a simple wrote

Why the goat?

Why the goat?

Tore at the towers gate, a distance from the salty lake that sits upon the midnight haste’s a moon above and beyond its gate

Dark castle waits with a vampires touch, a sociologist at heart he wants to study, the way in which the bite does flurry, flurry in the hearts of men

A dock full of rockets, a paladin and a robber, sit uneasy in truce to catch the brute, whom wilt above the town

And all the while the fool does sing, songs of pockets, chicken and men, a happily known life of Blissfull ignorance of the terror that awaits them…

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