There once was a state called Wyoming,
A place where the pigeons taught homing
All alone on their perches
Where seizures and searches
Left the luckless to shift or start roaming.
All alone in the sun lay a lizard
As if he had grits in his gizzard.
When the sun got too hot
And his sweat turned to snot,
He'd relax and invent him a blizzard.
With iron that was hid in your spinach
I built all the trestles in Greenwich.
Now the trains run at night
While I'm down with a blight
Of the hives and a terrible skin itch.
--Zack Replica, writing
as Citronella Candles
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