Thursday, August 22, 2013

Philip Seymour Duncan Hoffman Turner Overdrive




















when I tries to sleep i'm rapping,
at a truck stop never crapping,
all them shitholes i'll be passing,
forever everlasting,
until I get to my abode,
and sit on my own commode,
and bestow my colon's load,
then I can hit the ricky road,
those miles markers marking,
all the times the trees be sparking,
once a mile, every while,
I lays it down like tile,
words be chirping like birds,
ascending major thirds,
protecting pockets of nerds
from marauding bands of thugs
so sickly eating bugs
from underneath the rocks and things
and pushing special needs kids
off of all their swings.

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