Mr is a great title.

Are you as sincere as that figure of eight dream 

left on Frosted Bowling green  

When all the ideas you have to work with 

mean your now called Faust.
A Tetra fish tee shirt scored the wrong way around 

a red Shining guitar lost shoes and mini cans 

Of reincarnate spirits of a fittingly iced floor.
A maiden silenced and a stolen spike 

And shout why don’t you want my honey

I have a Monet poster from the flat pack house

Pavarotti spotted ghosting a late night poster 

campaign pass him another winged drink.
no red balloons to get a ringed necked band 

off the ground of a street dance 

As it inherited badges to prove it could swim

Having lived the lonely life of chimney sweep 

Flying above contemporary towns.
Dancehall of modern Japanese circus 

computerised music and a plan 

to escape in a harrier jet jump 

renamed again and prepared to 

flyaway now with wing walk troupe.
spin the blue rinse bottle a hit and miss kiss chase game

success a broken yellow egg laden Rhode 

now digitised.
the Miami pollsters wants a heart donation 

So here’s a pin to celebrate the disintegration of Acts 

Raise Hands ask what’s with the flowers 

When Knickers litter the stage 

when ever street has a Camera 

and you have your own registered designer tartan.
a pump to refuel a touch of bitters to back sweet

a trams stopped refrain one two three four 

serving this new stop until The tape is cut 

to a reopening of a Cincinnati chorus line.

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