Feel the Time, and well the Wallow, 'nother Servin'! Thy beak doth beg to swallow, 'Source, Saus, Cheep 'n' Cheap!' Pecking at my Sanity with your crook'd hook-nosed beak, Thee Byrd in Question, Tis like a Cuckoo, In tiresome, Miss Direction, Long Frothed and Formed, Simple Lies, Are not sipped down Quickened, Like Lord-Bound Ties, The World Turns, and we Find Out, We Were Right, Without no Doubt, Jews, And Faggots, And thee Loathen Conspiracy Hater, Were just Cloven-Hoofed, Retard-Normalcy Masturbators Not one thing hidden, in front of our eyes, just a sight forbidden, through their retarded repeated lies.