Trepane
The turn and the twist And the turn and the twist Correcting the construction And constructing the correction Dim eyes are a sore sight for your bright ones And a sore throat barks out “Hello.” While a sore heart props up ribs. And the mornings become late And the jokes become old And my nails are getting longer And my hair is getting thicker And the weather is getting colder And the bottles keep breaking And the receipts keep stacking And the garbage keeps filling And the dryer keeps buzzing And the pens keep disappearing And you never come around.
Still, Turn, twist, turn, twist, turn, twist













