I'm back at the fucking well again.
The cobblestones on this maiden's song
are plenty mossy, and the water just as sweet
but there, this bird over my shoulder
incessantly calls my tilt on its axis on its
crooked behavior
and my one good foot stubs up against the slick green
and the wells forth ridge guts into my corpse
like a jut in my waistline
and the water runs
up the nose bridge and its shrillness blinds
the tear while ice song deafens.
So now what the fuck is in my bucket?
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