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Description
Tales begin.
Tails end.
Figures are shapes.
Figures that they end.
Gesticulate all you want.
Dissimulate as you please.
Hours pass slowely,
Ours will too.
Nights, romantic? Prithee.
(don't even joke)
Knights, in armor? Cheesy.
(man, the poor bloke)
Grenades will roll,
But what is their role?
Oh, hate when one can meddle.
Tongues flying; spears of metal.
Fie! How, wherefore dost one's nose,
Rummage around, thus knows?
Tumbling inside me does a sea,
Blue? Red? Yellow? I cannot see.
Oh, no!
Don't know!
Keep your earbuds in,
Hide inside your inn.
Loudly play? One'll let your fave band.
For one's ears, well, they need to be banned.
Those rumors, can they alter?
Should one pray, at an altar?
Now should one hide in a foggy veil?
Slip past mountains, rivers, crooked vales?
Well, this but a minute foil,
small things are easier to foil.
Wait, could it be a foiled minute?
My contrast could make me a foil.
Nevermind, that is not my point.
To one, I don't want to anoint
With words so... so perfusely gross.
Yo creo que deber huimos.
The big mouths, such lies,
Cause many a wound.
But, haply after,
The cries can be pruned.