I sense a ghost, at my family's roast, this being seems to coast around stealing all my damned toast; you see I don't mean to boast, but that foolish sprite just might ruin our party tonight. With my hosting skills losing and my brain going boozy; I guess Lucy will have to cook on Tuesday- or maybe this is April fools day. Still I'm afraid to say we just may be living in a house made of clay and lumps of hay; from this fact I shall not stray but here the truth remains a constant yellow stain, a mark left by a mangy fellow. That man walks the property at sunset but can not talk about living in poverty on his monthly salary; so I shall banish thee, with no argument or plea, you see to me you are nothing more than an annoying flea- be gone kind sir leave me in peace. Released from work he quickly turned into a rather large jerk, though everyone has their perk but this hound I swear to ya' has no funny quirk; not only that but a fool he was where he needed a spoon he insisted on a fork. Can you feel it in the wind? The sins haunt those thin gusts, they carry human dust along with our decaying rust; oh yes! What a must, but please don't make such a fuss. Whether this inspires or impairs, I hope it can aid you fire up your engine and pay that bridge fare; although when it comes down to it I couldn't really care.
Stressed Out
(A little bit of Speed Fingre came out right there)
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