Pour the hourglass sand in the rusted tin can the looking glass man dressed in robes from Japan The chauffeur of the van with the globe in his hand, The roller coaster lands in the ocean Alas, the commotion is matched by the force of the splash, The source of the blast was a poor silly guy The orphan in rags, a fraudulent match for the torturous wrath of the horseman in black The sorcerer laughs, Foes in the bath with a cauldron of rats, gone in a flash The forces of life, Absorbed in a fight with the wrong and the right, The author was typing, the water was icy, the slaughter was pricey the martyr was light-skinned with chartered indictments that started in high school His father was Michael, He shot him with a rifle, A product of the cycle.
