Flung out heartless, spun out
This young charlatain hung out to dry
Slung out like yesterday’s turkey on rye
And only the passerby’s know what to do~
Stare with a cold spit of tongue shit and chew
Masticate that mother with the yellow fangs of judgement
Till he’s too stamped to find a way through
One thought on “Miscreant”
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don’t passerby