Pickled Rhyming in the Dairy Section

Ya' know.

I'd rather not hold your hand,

because I don't see you

asking man.

 

Your voice is surrealistic teal,

my voice is infinite kinds of real.

 

Opaque man,

you're transparent to me.

Translucent girl,

you're all I see.

 

A silhouette of heaven

resides in a void

on the steering wheel

in your thyroid.

 

Your head is triple chocolate veal,

my head is an uncanny seal.

 

Well I never thought I'd see the day

where the sun would lose it spot in the sky

and I never thought I'd see the day

where guilty men apologize.

And I guess never did witness it,

I never let my head reverse its spin.

 

Your fingers reflect your hidden intent,

my fingers stretch to parliament.

 

I'd rather not hold your hand,

because I don't hear you,

telling man.