"Glassed Beer"
Spies have dripping eyes in their pizzapies.
Highs are found in his tonics and lies.
The rainbow skies pass us by in knotted tie dyes.
There's a recorder in each and every one of them.
They have no R.E.M.
Send a pen when the time is near.
There was nothing to fear but fear.
Sounded kind of weird.
It wasn't clear.
We couldn't hear.
Nobody fear.
A six pack of pabst blue ribbon malt liquors' beer.
The hops taste better by the year.
Making me shed a tear.
In my undergarments gear.
So close yet so far from my rear.
by Jonathan Billet's 08.03.2150
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