Our Aura, Boris Artist. (An Ode)

Out with the old, in with the new.
The needs of the many? The needs of the few!
A natural order to all things.
No compromise, nor any strings.
Built myself a stairway to another brick in the mud.
Gimme a gun and I'd look like Elmer Fudd.

Looking back though, I'd have no complaints.
And none of my peers were ever real Saints.

Except my adoptive Mum, of course.

Best wishes to her and her next needy cause!





Polite notice: Anyone who didn't understand that, probably wasn't required to.