The Way It Seems

As corporate pawns pawned the ponds to the corpse of orbiting demon spawn I’ve even found my ground is gone, Walking on the thin red line of my brain’s brawn I begin Stephen hawking fliers asking the sane to respond. Say believe in a higher power but all I get is a … yawn I take a fit when they shit on John. Predictions of our predicament won’t be withdrawn. Picked a kid to pickle these fickle fawns who won’t admit they were spit out the mouth of dear dawn. We’re on a mission to graze on these amazing lawns, a crazy transmission only a con can abscond. If you handshake with a man who’s fake it still a bond. Will we break this society only to find we’re fond? So sigh with me, limey, I’m too grimy to fondle and if they try to tri me, it’s bye with the wave of a wand. They say I misbehave but they’re a slave to icons on a screen, scan-screened when our eyebeams shone. I scream at the man who wants to ban me to a genre, if the norm is conformist you can call me non. If a predecessor’s necessary - Stratford upon Avon. Lady, I’m not shady but a matador for your laundry Tell me maybe there ought to be Autonomy and get a ton of me. Ponder the preponderance.