Twenty Seven – Nine The waiting game is upon him, Years of dismal standing That led to a tolerance to behold. Taking the good with the bad. ‘You’re here now, shall we?’ He edges forward unsuspecting To serve that institution is enough While storming the depressing heaven. Wait, a saviour That Guy always stands good. Piccadilly Lily tells all And it’s unknown. That ride of glory With Queensbury rules on the chart ‘Keep calm and carry on’ They can all absorb into That chicken feed of righteousness And yes they can indeed It’s each man for himself here Like buffalo roaming He settles in. In the company of his friends They tell stories of El Dorado The gilded one sits at ease By Sue Bradford
Posted on: Tue, 30 Jul 2013 07:30:24 +0000
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