For The Composer

Que pasa? Its your little librettist, and I've come to make it then so I can tell you now, how much I love you, how much I live you. Like a dragons tail in a movie where the hero jumps on its head, are my scrambling wires they call them thoughts, but thats just made up words, and they all are; the babies need bottles of real, but this is formula. I write in song but they're all bad ones; no discipline, yet I'm always spanking. This has not been a pun, but so fun, sorry for the leaves falling in your eyes, but you know you have to jump in the pile, off of the loft and into the sneezes, off the houses and back
to the wards. Go on, play me something really you, I'd like to think the ivory wasn't taken for nothing. The picture is, what I do for you.