Spring is here, and what shall we say,

　　Disconnect from this heated day,

　　It`s coming, spring, and the next thing,

　　And a poet was, fumbling for words,

　　Maybe work, whatever that could mean,

　　A lot, granted for, saladine, salad who,

　　Snake dancer, here I come, here I go,This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

　　To whoever comes to my show,

　　And there I`ll drop,

　　And there I`ll sing,

　　Something something,

　　Spring is beginning,

　　Or here,

　　Maybe something queer,

　　Maybe a second exit,

　　An explanation,

　　Of fires that have been spreading,

　　Infecting, with that love sick story,

　　Of religion and love,

　　And something told me,

　　A dove would come from above,

　　Of which we`d feast,

　　Of which we`d consume,

　　And pretend that we`re pure,

　　Or poor, or capitalism man,

　　Or this guy feels like telling a joke,

　　And the height would never let you in,

　　So assume we`re just a white hare,

　　And in we go, and out we come,

　　For when the song, humm,

　　Something dreadful,

　　Something new,

　　Something came to you,

　　Said I`m dying,

　　Of thirst,

　　I`m dying,

　　The world is crying,

　　But the heat,

　　Had just begun,

　　Dumb, dun dun,

　　Sweet honey buns.