My days are numbered
How bout you?
Pretty sure it’s 42…

All my sleepy ways are slumbered
Underneath the overpassing
underclass of over-working
under-reaching overtures of undertrue

Gimme gimme ever gets
Inny minny minuettes
Don’t you own your manors yet?

Just an incision–
Open up wide
We’ll put some attractive distractions inside
With barely a scar
And rarely a sight to go off too far

These are the worlds we’ve been dreaming of late
Fee, fight, foe, fumble
into a crumbling fate