Give it up for the two-legged palindrome
Who says he means what he says what he means
So transparent that nothing is there
And man he's scripted a eulogy for your demise
He attends funerals like a court of appeals
A hoarder of truth that never escapes
It comes out the same way it went in
He speaks with an orifice we've never seen
And you can taste his sulfur and methane
In his haggard dusk as they flare
Like fireflies hitting the Tito's
And then he'll share his plate
With you as a warning and a threat
He offers up his body and blood
While dessert is a Walgreens prescription
With an apéritif of therapy
jtskipjack 