Guff Dunderhead

If the words made sense, made sense, I'd write more,

If the words made peace, made peace, I'd talk more,

If the words helped the dying, helped the dying, I'd whisper more,

If the words helped the crying, helped the crying, I'd cry more,

If the words helped the self, helped the self, I'd help the self more,

But the words don't help nor do they make sense, they've never made peace and only cause the dying, the crying refuse to whisper and the self continues to suffer, so words, words, oh words you leave me with your hollow meanings, you leave me with a confused feeling, I'm teeming with symbols, yeah a farce and not nimble.

So words please go away, bway, all the way to zway, and see your self right out of the language you are, and left in of the language you aren't, screw my mind and rape my consciousness, belittle my greatness and befuddle my frig, spin me down right, right side-side up and lose every one who tries to follow this self acclaimed insane madman, but I'm happy as an interworldly wordly pollo, cause be not with out my love-infection and I would reach not uneven Nothing nor reflection