Slitherer in the Grass

Strangle the moon,
for the Sun's sake 
--Dinner's served.

Let the news anchor cast
all your doubts on his shadow
for a cold steak. 


Aerials can't be in the sky.
No gravity to hold them down,
hold them up--
hands held high.

Well.
The plans are in the pudding,
and the snakes all in the grass.

But.
The pudding's all been spilled
and the grass been cut for hash.

Ssssss-sssss,
says that snake
to his friend.

Come here,
closer
to my den.

Let me spin you a secret
to feed to the
sheep. 

Trust in me,
and my word--
you may keep.

-Brawny Bones & the Hip-Hop Sheik