(Just a silly little poem)
There’s a psychotic old man loose in the balcony,
Watch out, he’s a chemist,
and he knows about alchemy.
Watch out, he’ll change you into a toad.
It’s with his potions that he’ll ply you.
He’ll overwhelm you with sincerity.
It’s his victim you should prepare to be,
He’s cunning and sly,
and you won’t ask him why,
As he cuts the wings,
off a fly.
It’s a potion that he has made.
Just drink it he said,
don’t be afraid. . .
And to your throat he holds a razor sharp blade.
It sizzles and pops as it flows down your throat,
Much like the alligators thrashing around in his moat.
You gasp, you cringe, you wallow all about,
Your mind can’t fathom,
Will I be a toad . . . or a trout?
But it’s something much gentler that you’ll be.
He’s turned you into a butterfly,
wild and free.
There’s a psychotic old man loose in the balcony.
Watch out, he’s a chemist, and he knows alchemy.