poem #41

As long as The Bells make the sound
of the old tin-tin
Ain't no way to die you see
as win-win

Mr Glasses and hair never did care
for all you ridin' your luck
Never did care about unloading
his head with that old dump-truck

As far as Byzantium is from
my misty gaze
I must bravely change
in innumerable ways,

for my time already spent does not
outnumber my remaining days