If a fool reaches out his hand for a glass of pain.
You grant his wish.
You split the joints, with wedges, and a mallet custom fit.
You fill the wounds with acids, and trikle out the screams.
The fool looks up and smiles, he knows, "not what it seems."
A guilder for the gander, a spoke for the idle wheel, a gypsum for the gypsy,
and they all breath silently.
The executioner turns violently toward the audience, spits,
cracks bones, tears, and grits teeth mauling.
The remains be given as a stipend, to the aforementioned clergy: gander, wheel, and gypsy.
The three commissioners of this work of art, she.
And the fool keeps out his hand, for another glass of reign.
Grant his wish.
dude, pretty cool, not sure if I completely understand it, but Ive always thought you had a weird, but cool and unique style.
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