Updated Ruin
The poet wrote a poem
About a black-eyed dog
A pink moon on its way
A fruit tree flourishing on the ground
And a road that’ll see him through.
Not many understood.
He sung songs about
The things behind the sun
Local clowns, tramps
Oceans finding their shores
And a troubled cure for a troubled soul.
Not many understood.
Now we all do.
Horror Sleaze Trash 