Super Duper Hero Machinations
Marilyn Manson's in a puddle
in the foyer and you've taken an
Indian princess as your love slave.
I'm stuck fixing the fence with
just a hammer and new nails.
How common. The 3-year-olds
next door caterwaul on their tricycles.
Somewhere, John Legend played.
Their father makes them stop
And calls them in, waves.
I come back inside and can feel
you bristle with jealousy, even though
you're the one with the devoted miss.
And you, now bored with being fanned
with multicolored palm fronds, tell me
that there's nothing worse than waking up
from a dream about a suicide attempt
and finding yourself at work.
I snicker. It'll be okay.
Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's
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