rut is stuck in Truth
The border traffic is obtuse
“Police Line – Do not cross” put pay to that
Oh yeah and crazy like that.
So, behold the bureaucrats as porn
I see your muzzled mouth does yawn
But whilst the blindside of the chased
Doth lay uncovered, almost uncut
An article of clothing can not be expected
to shoulder arms at dawn
Nor the decadence from whence it came
Be left to feel forlorn.