You'll hear, "come down into my
hutch." It's a hole, you will find,
and it's hairy getting out. Team
whichever is recruiting, and your
solid airy presence is requested
to reproduce the carrot imaginary.
Ready to dedicate your heart
to this transplant business? That's
a single organ tithe that doesn't
hold up to religious or pipe
scrutiny. "Feels better down here"
and "reason dictates" will sway a
few; you don't know better
and you could do worse. Tempted,
head to the desert, and ask those
who would make you son without
asking: what can fluffles know?
Roman Ryan 