The pop gun out law rode from town to town on his steed he’d ride wearing his hat like a crown his name they would call

He gathered up used paper A broken mug and coffee pot A cracked plate, a crooked rake And a tomato that begun to rot He gathered these things thinking

I covered it in blankets Even gave it a thermometer I called up my doctor To see if he could save my monitor He said he’s no repair man

In a corner alone Sat the chair with the teeth Locked away far From anyones reach If you sat down

My brain hurts from thinking all the thunks that I have thought or is it from the thoughts of thin… now it hurts more than it ought

There once was a man Who was known and feared For the frightnening features Of his beard His hair was long

It human nature to hate the silenc… Since it’s only quite when your al… So surround yourself with many fri… And let sound fill your home

I once met a man Who walked on his hands He’d sit on his head When too tired to stand He’d extend his leg

You could get hit by lightning Or run over by a rock Theres so many ways one could go Its rather quite a shock You could get sucked into a vortex

His pencil would not write No matter how much he would scold… “It’s not about the pencil boy” “It’s about the one who holds it”