It is the road of sheer confessions
Confetti sprawled on wrinkled glass,
Abandoned hopes and lost possessions
What is there but a violet farce?
Observe its bearing, steady duties
Are wearing down upon my knees,
So little flesh, too dried up cuteness
And sandbag- fight against the flees.
My Christmas doom, my New Years widow,
A search that’s given up for good,
Oh my striped lollies! Oh honey meadows!
What was, that was, and there no more.