Willow is his feet
In the dung
Of the littering junk
Where these vultures sung
Willow,willow,willow
It gasps and whoops
As their beak hops
Tearing slit carcasses in chops
With sprawls of blood
Sprawling hapless in buds
With a red lipstick smile
While his carcasses sag
Shrinkingly to the red clothed gum
As it draws and drools a line
Carved in a shiny silvered lie.
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