Open those boxes,
I know what you'll find.
I know the future, it's twisted inside.
Speak to me slowly, speak to me quick,
The future is mixed, and the fortune skin deep.
Quiet as sunbeam, small as a mouse,
Its clear as the box opens,
Nobody knows what or why or where any number grows.
Tuesday 29 October 2013
Word Speak #18
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment