Snot is running down his nose, greasy fingers, smearing shabby clothes.

The doer and the thinker, no allowances for the other, as the failing light illuminates the mercenaries creed.

The excrement bubbles, the century slime decays, and the brainwashing government lackeys would have us say it's under control.

He hears the silence howling catches angels as they fall, and the all time winner has got him by the fun.

Too many heroes stepping on too many toes, too many yes-men nodding when they really mean no.

Be sure to leave your underpants with someone you can trust.

I came across Mother Goose, so I turned her loose, she was screaming.