Torrid selves, have a steak or two to
Lease your nerves to a long term plan
Of containment, bulbous you tank, bulb
Ous you stank. Yet your shoulders do
Rise occasionally above the petty petty
Lowernessess that prettify and adorn.
You stank. You unflinching dust bast
Ard. Sink your teeth any lower and you
Will hit dirt where the snakes sit dark.