bit a rah rah after dinner

screw face, to true grace  
there's a wookmoon risin'  
slant the horizon  
oh where have i been?  
   
scooch a cheek beside me  
under this acacia tree  
and let's split along the inseams    
   
round this discussion    
off to the nearest hundred micron  
take a shot of python    
sit beside the tiger    
and out the light of man  
   
grease up the high beam    
clean up our act  
with a new definition of hygiene    
raise a toast to bad timing    
restitch mother natures hymen  
give her a readymade enema of adrenaline  
and minute maid  
   
ten percent real fruit juice  
   
eightyfive percent mindless rutabagas    
banging bhangra in the backyard  
of Hogwarts    
   
building macramé micro chips  
to globally position
their ridiculous insistence    
on ego based existence    
   
the other five percent  
are simply playing pick up sticks  
trying to keep our dicks wet