Cosmic Snakes

Cosmic snakes take turns on turntables, telling fables of foxxes and opossums, pussies with dachsunds. Sandcastle paradise with a slice of coconut butterfries, tied together with eyes of an alligator and served in a waffle cone. Metric gnomes in your front yard. Credit cards on display at the Olympic games. Hercules can't count to 3 and 4 times 5 is long before clockwork. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, there's a fury of fur heading south on the 105. Alive and well we say we tell we smell smashcrack candlewax corroding like my ex-wife holding a knife in the kitchen. One red eye and one Spanish guy looking fly in a blue tuxedo with a torpedo in his pants. Ya wanna dance? Or romance in the back of my pick-up line at the Alamo, lost control of my plastic ammo, scrammed like Rambo 3 4 5. Alive and well wishing with penny lane, chewing on clams claiming the same thang as those cosmic snakes.