Scuttling furtive scratchy skritcher. Nosing through your trash.
Yet so soft and fuzzy-wuzzy was he. (It.)
Sets off for lunch. With your food, perhaps?
Only you can say.
Again. Yet again. Dressed to the tens.
Which is, as usual, a cut above.
Humming happily. Coming to trim your expectations.
And accept the duties of your job, your life, your everything. Maybe?
I think she's a friend of my sister.
Or ought to be.
"If it ain't broke, don't fix it."
Last refuge of the stupid. Where laziness is the call to action.
Can you hear it? Right around the corner?
Coming your way. So step smartly then.
See what it says. Admire the windows.
Know that you always have a way out.
And it's name is Bob.
And Bob's a bit pensive today, isn't he?
Watch me sing. Watch me fly.
Hang around and watch paint dry. And see what we get.
Is a thing. Maybe you've been there.
Or maybe you're going there. Stay tuned.