zipping straight down South Street.
Won’t stop, I’ve got a date
three close friends, can’t make me late.
Their Tritone deep;
their flavor strong;
their colors dark;
their journeys long.
Don’t fail me now, such a Wyrd day;
got no more WORC, no bills to pay!
Don't need no car, got my jetpack:
a hundred pockets right on my back.
Purple-yellow steed, my ride;
Lightning, fast, slides past your side.
Please, Officer, resist brutality—
's only black tea, dark coffee, and cheap whiskey!
