| bold futile flavor |
|---|
| There’s data sets and information |
| In the backseat of your forest fire eyes |
| I’ve gotten countless lacerations |
| From the boiling jagged edges of your pride |
| Would you write a funny caption in quotations |
| Under pictures of me mummified in wire |
| Would you prowl around the sea |
| So slowly measured |
| With a battery of someone else’s time |
