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And Now, a Random Poem

There's a hole in your soul
where the good thoughts never go
and the hole is made of bones
that are gnawed by a mole
who lives in the hole
at the bottom of your soul
And the mole has a phone
and he calls when you're alone
But the tone of his phone
is a lonely hollow groan
And when you answer the phone
when you're called by the mole
who lives in the hole
at the bottom of your soul
where the good thoughts never go
you just moan 'cause you know
that he's down there all alone
in a hole made of bones

-The Gneech

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Comments

( 5 comments — Leave a comment )
laurie_robey
Feb. 25th, 2009 05:37 pm (UTC)
What are they piping into the air in that building down there?
the_gneech
Feb. 25th, 2009 05:41 pm (UTC)
Knockout gas would be my first guess. ;P But I actually thought of this poem while I was going to sleep last night, which is why it's so "Buh?"

-TG
(Deleted comment)
the_gneech
Feb. 25th, 2009 05:47 pm (UTC)
o/`
There's a house at the top of a tree...
o/`

-TG
torakiyoshi
Feb. 25th, 2009 07:20 pm (UTC)
"There's a hole in the world like a great black pit
and the vermin of the world inhabit it
and its morals aren't worth what a pig could spit
and it goes by the name of London."

-=Kiyoshi
klepsydra
Feb. 25th, 2009 09:01 pm (UTC)
Like it!
( 5 comments — Leave a comment )

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