Oysters and Bugs

by SpittleRattle

Is pearl:
Abalone silvered,
So feel good.

And heaven’s soft petals unfurl,
As white as her skin.
As white as her skin.
A grain of sand,
Floating on the tide,
Moved by the moon

Think that butterflies
Are angels;
Must think the same
Of flies.
A man told me a story
That filled me with glory –
He said that one day we’d change,
And we’d live long enough to understand, and
(Though this will probably sound strange),
We’ll start to pupate.
Begin to mutate.
And then we’ll chew our way out,
And start buzzing about.

Buzz buzz.

So I’ve been practising my harp.
I’ve been practising my harp.
Because sinners can’t be winners,
And a man needs an option
In case of bad fortune,
Bad chance.
So I’ve been practising the harp.