The shit worms I saw in battle,
Mini octopi in a thimble fierce as hell.
They fight as fighters, the gas of plight,
You'd throw up, horrific the smell.
I shit so much the gods on crutch,
They clap for shitting guys.
I feel light, some microbial blight,
Nice, godly, and goodly inside.
I shit my brain, now holier in the drain,
Cavorting with frolic my last antic I pitch.
The spine if next, expect supine ball less text,
Become an ass lickiing god fearing bitch.
Hello says the sky, don't be so shit shy,
A star of diarrheal popularity you lead.
The hallowed ground blissfully hollowed,
Holy outbursts of a needed deed.
Dance a bit, after all, a lot of shit,
Scarcely do missing scarecrows sing.
This session of shit, the fanfare to fit,
The zen of clarity verily bring.
My asshole now clean, shit on the scene,
I pray to the gods of the fecal space.
So much bad is said, I say instead,
The shit stunk up the halls of space.
