Sunday, April 8, 2012

A rustle in the long grass.


There was a rustle in the long grass

When the tiger came to eat me

He was slow and I was fast

With two good legs to take me

And there always is that sober thought

The tiger is just playing

He never seems to ask himself

Why do I even play at all?

For one of these days, the way things are going

One of us will surely catch up with the other.

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