Around Your Nape Like A Lock-It The Key Is In The Pocket

Warrior for the raining Arrow,

the Bow of standing Sees,

the I's to secure the Rattle,

the Snake in Coils Cures.

The lay of deadly sats,

the smothering in fact,

a plastic bag of chemical shag,

the rubber stretching Maut.

Pyramids in City,

the New of All to Thought,

buildings have the simple,

it is the brain in trot.

The seat of no frustration,

a toiletry of bathe,

the flush is just the easy,

clean-up is a shay.

Running Fulled in Bore,

a battle contemplation,

the Arms of Equal Rapport,

states it is the bastion,

of no more than it's score.

A figure marking bellowing,

a pitcher with a neck,

the ball of red in bouncing,

the template of showed Set.

The Sun bursting Moon,

a bridge to whence the sprang,

the color of frustration,

are in the times of sprain.

The repeat of in History,

an hour or a glass,

the Emblem of the Madness,

speaking Sanity trashed.

A Poet or a Print,

chiseled to the fiend,

who is the judge of Evil,

when good is taking rent for Text,

written in the Times of Sext.

A Thousand Years or Sewn to Ist,

the Rise of Rosing came to Brisk,

shall we dance to do the Jig,

or will the Clever be the sprig,

exampling Aeons prise,

as the eons of shown deprived the throne,

of clearly written to understand,

that Maps on Walling are Directions of this Pyramids done.

The Book of Life,

springs with living Waters,

the red is the blue to the purple see through,

the covering of nothing but the skeletal frame,

to know the Skull of the brain,

is to train for the black licorice I rope.