The climbing Sun gives birth to a day
Fortune, and Glory await the bold
Diligence brings contentment
Pleasure for the glutton
Sorrow for the damned
The Bed comforts,
Ripped From Dreams
There once was a class dedicated to art
The prof brought in a hussy and tart
The boys eyes did gleam
In trance they did seem
Until the art tart let rip a fart.
The mountains strive to hold back the day,
Keeping her hidden, behind the solid shadows
The closer you are, the more comfort you find
From the days searing heat.
Where can I find pizza
When my gut needs it
When all the stores are closed and It’s half past one
Where is the pizza man
To stop my anguish
I need some greasy bomb
To fill my hole.
Wal Mart, it calls to me
With cardboard options
Yes lower quality but still has some sauce
They’re open all hours
My tires are screeching
In and out in a flash
With my great prize.