PSALM 23
Finally been done. The mass of the weeks
has formed into years - like gumballs in a
chicken factory. We eat the resultant mash.
A McNugget for the ages! (I'm not being rash),
it's the God's-honest truth. Here's my proof:
-
If you hold my hand one last time, you'll
feel what I'm saying - the power of
embellishment is rushing through me.
When last I was here I had something
to say. Now? I'm wordless, and sacred,
distressed, and anything but OK.
-
'Even though I walk through the valley
of the shadow death, I will fear no Evil.
Your rod and your staff shall comfort me....'
Man oh Manischewitz if that can work for me.
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