Acquired Taste

Excresence Coruscates

Public Hygiene

F-Stop Evil

Eventually They Melt

Where There's Lack

Trumped By Fussiness

We Come To You

Iron in the Fire


Rhyme or Reason

 

 

Lyrics

Excrescence Coruscates

 

A moment of time

Something unpredicted

Gives its light

From nowhere it seems

A lightning growth

Welcome to its host

Even the unexpected

Can shine like the sun

 


Public Hygiene

 

He keeps gnawing on his zit

And never seems to quit

She keeps flossing all her teeth

While walking all around


She grabs a clipper for her nails

And thinks it’s just okay to do

To let the world clean up for her

Though all must look away


 

F-Stop Evil

To bring a frown to focus

Its sadness on a smile
An aim on dowered faces

The dire rank and file

To focus on a frown

And smile upon its sadness

On dowered faces down
Just reveals its madness



Eventually They Melt

 

Flakes, they never settle

They only fall and thaw

Regardless of the cool or heat
They rarely stick around


When blizzard gales support a flake

They only blow about

They cannot stick or hold their own
But crystal form they tout



Where There’s Lack


He tries to hide his size with exercise

Her girth she out weighs with her volume

Not well endowed, his truck is huge

Her cell calls many, though callers none

 

He’s got toys for who he’s not

Accessories for her instead

An insecure situation

Is eased by compensation



Trumped by Fussiness


He gamboled over a gewgaw

Lost himself for a foofaraw

Dealt us a blow with his baubles

Tipped his hand to all his foibles

 

We thought him a card or a joker

And hoped he’d bluff or blame

But his vanity, much like poker

Showed us more addiction than game


 

We Come to You

 

Soon too our turn at the helm

To forward lasting sea

And face the vast unbroken tides


Known then, our battered masts

And oarless frames afloat

 

Soon then, we drift to point

A wake to follow friends
And shore the waves of others dead



Iron in the Fire

Branded white for scarring skin

Singes, sears, and smolders fears
Stinging still when soreness fades

Marks its owner and its grade


Glowing red and orange hues

Poker stoking hotter fumes

Fired to etch its victim’s flesh
Till self and symbol finally mesh

 


Rhyme or Reason

It’s all really rather relative

The way we to and fro fall

One might suppose the right would be something

If one could accept it all